Red
by jdjseriously
Summary: A young Parisian girl finds her life purpose when her parents are brutally murdered in front of her by government officials. Deciding to throw herself whole heartedly into the heat of the revolution, Elleth meets people that will change her life forever. Perhaps along the way she will even find a love that's...red.
1. Prologue - Red

*I DO NOT OWN LES MISÉRABLES, HOWEVER MUCH I WISH THAT I DID! I AM NOT THE AUTHOR NOT THE DIRECTOR OF THE MOVIE*

PROLOGUE

They came fast and strong with the force of a hurricane and the silence of the calm before the storm. Clad in bright red uniforms that glimmered with proof of their prowess, the soldiers made their way into the dimly lit hallway of the sleeping family. All was still, and for just a sweet second, life continued on as normal. That sweet second turned sour very, very quickly. Bursting into the bedroom, the hoard of government assassins didn't hesitate. They didn't think that the two parents sleeping in bed, the wife's dainty hand laid lightly on her husband's chest, rising up and down steadily, might have a daughter. They didn't think. Why didn't they think? They were mindless, and in the split second it took for the red coated strangers to pull the triggers on their cold metal rifles, the two lovers were dead. Cold, still, sleeping. This was not the sleep they had been in a sheer moment before. Red, red everywhere. Red hair, shining in the light of the pale Paris moon. The commander turned and gave the short soulless nod to his brigade of murderers. It was done. It was done. Red hair in the corner. Her silver eyes turning as cold as the steel that had killed her parents. The soldiers made their hasty exit, brown leather boots scuffing the wooden planks of the floor making soft shuffling noises and then the silence. Red hair moving forward, her fingers chubby enough to still be a toddler; she was one though not at heart. Not anymore. The bed was red, sheets stained with the dark crimson life force, dripping down onto the floor. The boards squeaked in protest as the girl moved forward, her hands grasping the blankets, not caring as the sticky substance stained her childish hands. Soon enough blood was not the only thing tainting the bed sheets, and fat angry tears rolled down the little girl's cheeks. She was sad, empty yes. But the girl was dominated by her anger. It penetrated every fiber of her being, from the top of her red head to the soles of her bare tiny feet. She glowed with the ferocity of her fury, and with one last glance at the two parents, still sleeping softly, too silent of course, but sleeping nonetheless. She said nothing. Silver eyes alert, the girl raised her head. It was she who had all the force of a hurricane, no, she had all the force of a fire, a fire that would consume the whole city of Paris and all those who stood by and watched. All those who were mindless. The little girl creased her brows, knowing what was to happen. Elleth walked out of the room, reborn.


	2. Chapter 1 - ABC Café

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables, no matter how much I wish to.

Chapter 1 - "ABC Café"

_13 Years_ Later

Beggars and young mongrels dove through the streets of Paris, snatching whatever they could from the lazy rich people whose eyes were too slow to keep up with them.

_A different year and a different hour, but the people are the same, _Elle thought to herself wryly, strolling down the cobblestone walkway, red locks of hair tucked behind her ears. She hated the dreaded color, and every time it fell into her face, the rush of unwanted memories flooded her brain and the fury ignited again in her blood. And she was angry. But now, she had a plan. A violent plan involving naught more than revenge, but it was a plan.

Elle carefully evaded the over excited baker selling rolls on the side of the road, and with a quicker pace, she passed through the crowds of people and was about to escape when a young boy crashed into her, sending them both reeling to the ground. After muttering a few choice curse words, Elle struggled back to her feet, and when her sharp silver eyes landed on the scruffy blonde boy in front of her, the only thing that came out was,

"You."

Truth be told, she had been following the little weasel all day. WIth dirt on his face, the wide set blue eyes, and the small gap between his teeth, Gavroche was more than he appeared, and he was exactly who Elle needed to find. The boy made an instant attempt at a getaway, but the girl was ready, and her small hand reached out and gripped his ratty brown vest, dragging him to face her.

"Whaddaya want with me, prissy boots? Lemme go!" The boy snarled in his thick cockney accent, blue eyes alight with a fire that Elleth knew very well. Yes, she had found the right person. With a small smile, she looked down at Gavroche and stated,

"I'd like to volunteer." The reaction wasn't at all what she had been expecting. Sadly, the little mongrel boy burst out laughing.

"You?" He guffawed, tears in his eyes. Feeling a burst of anger, Elle narrowed her eyes to steeling silver slits and answered,

"You know the look of someone like me I'd take it, so don't play fool with me Gavroche. I've heard of you, and I know that you c an lead me to the Amis. So please, don't hesitate." Gavroche took another look at the girl, and noticing the fire in her eyes, nodded.

"Whasser name lady?" He asked, grabbing her hand and immediately starting to drag her through the winding streets, pushing past the posh rich citizens and getting cries of protest in return.

"My name is Elleth, but you can call me Elle." Gavroche clicked his tongue and smiled, mischievous teeth flashing as he ducked past a horse and carriage, the driver sending them a nasty glance as they passed.

"So you wanna join the Amis, eh?" Gavroche asked as they finally slowed to a manageable pace. The crowds had thinned out and the streets were nearly empty. "Yes," replied Elle, a grin now lighting up her once stone cold face. "You see I-" But Gavroche never got to hear what she had seen, because the building in the center, the very heart of Paris, had taken her breath away.

"Welcome to the ABC Café, missus. Tip?" The boy beside her proudly introduced, hoding out one hand to gesture to the meeting place and the other to collect the coins that she numbly handed over.

"Do I just...walk in?" She managed to spit out, grey eyes wide as she turned to look at the little blonde boy, his smile rather disarming.

"Yup! Tell'em I sent ya and you won't raise any alarms." When Elle hesitated, Gavroche huffed and gave her a good natured shove towards the large mahogany double doors. _Well that's one way to do it, _Elleth thought to herself with a small grin. She was finally doing it. She was going to avenge her parents.

"We need to strike soon, while the iron is hot! Listen to me, men! This is our chance!" The golden haired leader of the Amis shouted passionately, his hazel eyes burning with the light of rebellion as he stared at his fellow men. Courfeyrac and Grantaire sat at the dark wooden table, one with a bottle and the other completely dry. "We're not ready yet, we need more supplies!" Courfeyrac persisted, his face tired, hand supporting one side and the other dropped off of the table, hanging low underneath. They had been going at it all day and everybody was exhausted except for Enjolras. This was typical. Enjolras was about to give back his attack plan when the doors to the café slowly opened, squeaking in protest to announce the arrival of a stranger. All heads turned to the entrance, and then a head poked through the opening, body soon following.

The first thing Courfeyrac noticed was that she looked like fire. Fierce determination set in her fine brows, silver eyes that could cut like a sword, and the bright red tumble of hair that was pinned back in a sort of bun, though many tendrils escaped and framed her porcelain face.

"Hello." The woman said, stepping forward lightly as if she knew that this was dangerous territory. "My name is Elleth, and I am volunteering to join the Amis." An immediately uproar rose after this statement, a jumble of raucous drunken laughter and shouts of dismay. The golden haired leader focused his hazel eyes on Elleth, and he cleared his throat loudly to cease the noise in the overflowing room.

"You, a woman, wish to join the rebellion." It wasn't a question, but rather a statement, and the red haired girl frowned at this.

"Yes, I can fight just as well as all of you if not better, and I have a fierce hunger for this battle."

"Is that so?" Enjolras asked, his fair brows furrowed as he stepped closer to the stranger, boots making ominous noises as he neared. "And why would that be?" Finally standing before her the leader of the revolution asked, his lips pulled into a slight smirk. "You do not need to know." She responded, but Enjolras shook his head and tut tutted,

"I'm afraid you cannot join unless we know your reasons." Elleth was enraged, and her silver eyes narrowed into furious slits. Taking a deep breath, she fired back at him,

"They killed my parents, since you felt the need to know so desperately." Silence fell in the café, the hushed whispers ceased and all eyes focused on her. Many of them knew this past, and had come from the exact same background. Countless people had been killed by the government by showing their open approval of the rebellion. Hard times they were, and everybody could relate to that.

Courfeyrac's brows furrowed, his brown eyes trained upon the girl. He felt...pity for her? To be honest he didn't think that there was much a chance that she was going to get into the Amis, but perhaps Enjolras would be in a forgiving mood today. It was not likely. Enjolras looked at her, and he seemed to relax visibly, broad shoulders moving back and his tired hand reaching up and mussing up his already messy golden hair. "Your parents were with the revolution?"

"Yes." Elleth replied, noticing that the leader of the revolution was exhausted, merely exhausted. She dropped her guards slightly, understanding that he was a busy man. There was a pause, the static in the air making her freeze, and then he spoke.

"My name is Enjolras. Welcome to the Amis."

Courfeyrac felt a smile bloom on his face despite his mood, and Grantaire glared at him from above his wine bottle, dark hair curling slightly above his ears and blue eyes unfocused with the effect of the alcohol.

"Damn Courfey, if you're so happy that the girl joined why don't you go talk to the missy." Backing up his chair and getting a squeak of protest in return, he stood and grinned at his drunken friend.

"Good idea, Grantaire." The man merely grumbled in response and downed himself in his wine once again.

"I'll be watching!" Game the garbled cry as Courfeyrac made his way down into the parlor. Chuckling to himself, he set his sights on the red headed girl and shoved past several of his friends. Just a few feet away now. Stepping forward, his was about to say his first words when the golden haired Enjolras swooped in like a hawk. The leader of the revolution put his hand on the girl's shoulder, his hazel eyes appearing warm and inviting as he bent down his head and whispered something into her ear. She turned to face him, a huge smile breaking out on her face and the two walked away, his hand now moved to her lower back as he guided her away from Courfeyrac.

His mood dropped like a stone. It wasn't as if he were surprised, no. Enjolras looked like an angel to anyone of the opposite sex, and he seemed to always have one or two ladies following him around like lost puppies. Courfeyrac could hear Grantaire's burst of laughter as he witnessed his friend's misfortune. Shaking it off, Courfeyrac merely turned right back around and joined the drunk back at the table. After finishing another bout of giggles, Grantaire threw one arm over his dark haired friend and slurred, "Don't worry Courfey. There are a million...bajillion...gazilliion fishes in the streets of Paris." Thinking upon his own statement, he then added, "Though all of 'em might not be a pretty as the little red headed demon you got there. Yup, probably not. Oh well." Courfeyrac shook his head at his drunken friend's antics, and he looked over at all of the men that were gathered. His friends. He would most likely die with them. For some reason, that thought didn't scare him at all. So today was a failure in terms of the girl...Elleth. A small grin made its way onto his grizzled face and he leaned back in the dark wooden chair, taking a deep breath. He would try again tomorrow. The girl couldn't evade him forever, after all.

Enjolras led Elle to the weapons room, all the while talking with such enthusiasm about all of the things he could equip her with.

"There's the short sword, which is good in a close range battle, but if you want to shoot from afar which is what we'll mostly be doing, you're going to need a good rifle or a shot gun." Pulling out a heavy steel weapon from the trunk in the back of the room, Enjolras returned and set the gun in Elle's small hands. She turned her gray eyes down and looked at it, shaking a bit. This looked like exactly what had killed her parents, and she didn't like it, not one bit.

_You can serve them right back with what killed mum and dad, _She thought, and then finally the cold reality set in. She was going to help the Amis in the revolution, no. She _was _the Amis. She was going to kill people, and most likely be killed in return. Enjolras looked at Elle, and his eyes softened slightly. He knew what was going through her head, and putting one steady hand on her shoulder, he said,

"Don't worry Elleth. You'll be fine." She looked up at him, gray eyes wide and stepped back. The hand that he had offered fell, and she turned around stiffly.

"Thank you Enjolras, but you must understand. When I start to become friends with people or care for them, all I've experienced is death. So don't be offended if I don't feel like becoming friends with you." Enjolras wasn't offended of course, merely sad. He was sad for the girl who's innocence had been marred at such an age. He was sad for the lives of all of his comrades. He was sad, because he knew now how unlikely it was that they were going to win this.

_This chapter did not take me as long as I thought it was going to, surprisingly. I was so excited to introduce Gavroche, because he's one of my favorite characters (he's so lovable!) I'm never sure about my work so if you do happen to like it that seriously makes my day. Seriously. So comment or message me or like it or favorite it or whatever the crap you want to do._


	3. Chapter 2 - Introductions and Acceptance

Disclaimer: I do not will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 2 - Introductions and Acceptance

Enjolras offered her a room. A _room. _In his _apartment. _With her mind still reeling from the thought, Elleth made her way back into the lobby of the café, her head ducked low and her red brows furrowed.

_"Come find me at the end of the day after you're done talking with all the lads and I'll walk you there." _He'd said, with that wry smile and a lock of golden hair falling into his face. Maybe he wasn't trying to be that way, maybe he was just friendly. _Overly friendly,_ she thought to herself, feeling slightly irritated at the memory. The man did not even know her, and here he was trying to be a white knight. Pah! Elleth didn't need to be protected by anybody. She didn't even have to associate with the rest of the Amis! Her only purpose in joining the men was so that she could carry out her revenge and feel at peace with the spirits of her deceased parents. This was something that she had to do, and if it meant having to put up with pushy revolutionaries, then so be it. Anyway, she did need that room.

Gavroche and Courfeyrac sat on a stone wall, chatting merrily and watching the people pass by. The older of the two seemed to always brighten up when he was with the little rascal and feeling relieved to have a break from all the heated debates, he hadn't hesitated to make his way to their meeting place. Gavroche, suddenly remembering what had happened earlier in the day, perked up and asked,

"Hey, did that lady join the Amis?" Courfeyrac smiled at the mention of the girl and looked down, quickly replying,

"Oh, the redhead? Yes, she joined. Put up a good hell of a fight, though. Seems like she's gonna give it right back to the government." Gavroche gave his friend a gap-toothed grin, a knowing grin. Upon noticing the look on the younger boy's face, he shook his head immediately.

"No, it's not what you think. I'm just excited that we got another person to join the team."

"You fancy her."

"I haven't even talked to her."

"Doesn't matter. You think she's _pretty!_"

"So what?"

"You have a _crush!_"

"No, no I do not. What would you even know about having a crush, Gavroche?" "Don't change the subject, mister."

"I am offended! I was clearly not changing the subject!"

"Clearly."

"No, seriously. Enjolras got to her first, anyway."

"So that's the problem."

"Clearly."

The two alley cats looked at each other for a moment's silence, and then they collapsed back onto the brick wall of the building behind them and let it all out, laughing. Such innocence captured in such a moment as this. If only it could have lasted for longer.

Meanwhile, Elleth was being passed around like a bottle of wine from one member of the Amis to the next, and to be honest, her head was swimming the the pure quantity of information that she was processing. Names. She had always been terrible at names!

Feeling an intense migraine coming on, the girl quickly made her way over to the golden haired Enjolras to plead for a break. He accepted immediately, understanding that "his boys" could be quite a handful, and they were! Not that she didn't like them, of course. Elleth had always fit in more with men that the women...all ladies wanted to talk about was what patterns they were going to pick for the next dress they were going to sew and whether or not it was acceptable to hire a governess for their dear little daughter Ygritte. And it was a complete treason to even think of a woman handling a gun, dear lord! Elleth nearly guffawed out loud when she imagined the looks on their faces if they saw what she was doing now. How preposterous! Joining the barricades? What shame she would bring on the community!

Finally finding the exit to the café, Elle nearly hopped across the cobblestone, feeling a burst of happiness rush into her. This was her life's purpose. To live, and perhaps die, in the company of the revolution. Brushing a lock of bright red hair out of her face, Elle looked down at the road as she walked, singing quietly a tune that she had once heard her father sing himself.

"Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men?" So engrossed in the song she was that she didn't even notice an approaching figure, who apparently didn't notice her either as he continued walking. You can imagine what happened next. The two unsuspecting strangers crashed into one another, both sent sprawling across the hard cobblestone road. Elleth felt a sharp and severe pain in her ankle as it twisted in an awkward direction, and hissing in pain with a few choice curse words of her own, she attempted to get back onto her feet but was only rewarded with a stabbing pain and gravity bringing her body to the ground again.

"Shit! Are you okay?" Elleth looked up to see a dark haired man, his brown eyes worried and his hands outreached to her.

"Does it _look _like I'm okay? My ankle is twisted. I can't walk." She growled, feeling her mood drop just as fast as it had risen. A determined look came over the stranger's face, and he brightened up with a small smile.

"Don't worry, I'll carry you."

"Wait, what? No-" But she didn't have time to say anything before the man had put one arm behind her knees, the other around her shoulders as he lifted her into his arms and carried her bridal style. Feeling annoyance creeping into her blood, Elleth looked up into the face of the random person who had lifted her into his arms.

"You don't know where to take me." The man quirked an eyebrow, his lips pulled into an easy grin.

"Yes I do." _Who is this guy? _

"B-but...how could you possibly?" I sputtered out, gray eyes wide and confused as I stared up at the man, who merely shook his head with a small laugh and kept looking straight in front of himself.

"I'm Courfeyrac. I'm a part of the Amis." _Oh. _Was the only thing that Elleth could think.

"But why didn't I meet you before?" Courfeyrac looked down at her, finally. His brows high up upon his forehead, brown eyes really more of a tawny color, now that she noticed. His hair was a mass of dark curls, and it looked like they hadn't been brushed in a week. His cheeks were flushed, why, Elleth didn't have a clue.

"You're staring at me."

"What?"

"You're staring at me."

"No I wasn't."

"Yes you were."

"Whatever." Courfeyrac laughed at the slight embarrassment on Elle's face, but she merely turned her head. She usually didn't let people catch her looking at them. She was usually very careful.

"I thought it was very brave of you to join the Amis," Courfeyrac stated, looking away from the girl in his arms again. It was as if he couldn't keep eye contact with her. "It's my purpose. I had to do it."

"Revenge?"

"Something like that."

"You are one peculiar girl."

"I know." The two walked down the narrow streets of Paris until the crowds thinned out, finishing the last stretch in silence. But it wasn't awkward silence, it was...comfortable. And that was something Elleth hadn't felt in a long time.

Grantaire spotted the two coming from a ways away, even if his eyesight was shaky due to the daily alcohol he consumed. A huge grin worked its way onto his face and he called out to all the Amis,

"Courfey's got the girl!" Enjolras pulled a neck muscle he turned his head so fast towards the doors. Indeed, Courfey did have the girl. His hazel eyes widened at the sight, and he shook his head slightly. Why was he carrying her anyway? Worry took over the element of surprise as Courfeyrac pushed the doors open with one hand, the other holding fast onto the redhead.

"Elle twisted her ankle. She needs bandages." Joly, the expert of medicine in the Amis, quickly rose to his feet and rushed off to another room, presumably to find said bandages. Courfeyrac gently set Elleth down on top the table that Grantaire was seated at, and the dark haired drunkard waggled his eyebrows at her with a slight smirk on his face. Surprisingly, Elleth merely laughed. As Joly dashed back with a roll of bandages in his hands, he got to work on the girl's injured foot, paying attention to nothing else. Elleth turned her head to face Grantaire and she smiled, gray eyes studying the man. "Grantaire, right? I remember you." Grantaire swept into a gallant bow at her feet, causing all of the other men to laugh at his antics.

"Yes, m'lady. I am the marvelous Grantaire, at your service." The café itself seemed to be in a better mood, if possible. The lights of the fire lamps flickered about the room dancing in beautiful shapes and patterns and the sounds, oh the sounds! The Amis laughter filled the building, seemingly filling up the entire space with the sounds of merriment and bonding. And they were bonding. The men were just starting to realize that perhaps Elleth wasn't all that she seemed.

Perhaps she was like them. Perhaps she was planning on staying. Perhaps she wasn't like a normal woman, too scared to come out of their houses at the sound of gunfire. Perhaps she was braver.

Courfeyrac studied the girl and the way that her face lit up whenever one of the men said something to her. The way that she laughed, and the way she would tilt her head back slightly whenever something struck her just so. And _she was beautiful. _Shaking his head, he looked away, out of the windows of the café. This wasn't supposed to be happening. People were going to die. She would probably die. And yet even so, here he was, defying every rule of fate. He wasn't supposed to fall for anybody. But how could he not, when she laughed like that? Smiled like that? Talked like that? And he had only talked to her once. Once.

Laughing quietly at himself as the night wore on, he watched his friends and how they accepted Elle. They treated her as if she were one of their own, and now she was. Grantaire stayed by her side, seated on the table beside her as she recounted stories of her life on the streets, of meeting Gavroche. She really was strong. She had struggled, just like the lot of them. She had dealt with hunger, and cold, and the government. Oh, she had dealt with them. They had killed her parents and yet she was still here, going on as strong as ever and she looked happy. She looked happy with the Amis, but even more than that. She looked like somebody who had found their purpose. And she had. Courfeyrac noticed Enjolras watching her, just as he was. But tonight, it didn't bother him. If the time came when she had to choose, she would choose. She seemed like the kind of person that knew what she wanted. Courfeyrac didn't have to worry, and he didn't. Another burst of laughter came from the table where they were seated, and the bandaging was finished. For some reason, Elle hadn't even noticed.

Grantaire offered the girl a swig of his wine, and the whole room froze, waiting. With a wry smile, she took the glass bottle and swallowed one gulp of the dark substance. Immediately the tense atmosphere broke, and Grantaire grinned. She was accepted. She was one of them. A lock of wavy red hair fell from the bun on top of Elle's head, brushing against the soft curve of her cheekbone. Brown eyes gentle, Coufeyrac smiled.


	4. Chapter 3 - The Night and Morning After

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 3 - "The Night and Morning After"

As the night drew long and Elleth grew in increasingly exhausted, Enjolras finally approached. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, and despite the merriment and laughter of the company they were in, he seemed sad. Sad and pathetic, if Enjolras could ever look pathetic.

"Are your ready to go, Elleth?" He asked, voice low and husky. The voice of someone who had been yelling at his revolutionaries all day.

"Yes, of course." I replied as politely as I could, sensing somehow that Enjolras didn't need someone to yell at now. Perhaps a hot bath and a good housekeeper. Unfortunately, Elleth could provide none of these things. Upon exiting the café, silence fell along the empty streets as the two walked side by side, Enjolras's long and lean body appearing a Goliath next to the redhead's delicate frame.

"Thank you for joining today, Elleth. I appreciate it." Enjolras said, and as much as he wanted the statement to sound sincere, it came out dead and lifeless.

"No, you don't. But I don't understand why." Enjolras seemed to sink under Elleth's heavy gray gaze, and he couldn't look her in the eye. "You appear so vibrant and passionate in front of the Amis, but you're...depressed here." Enjolras, taking a deep breath that of an exhausted man, turned to face the girl beside him. They halted in the middle of the street, the lonely crickets their only witness.

"I fear I am sending my brothers to their deaths." The sentence so small, but so filled with grief. Elleth hesitated, her gray eyes softer now.

"Enjolras, if they die, if _we _die, it is not because of you. We die because it is our purpose to serve a greater cause. Never would it be your fault. These men made their choice to join not on account of you, and do you not think that they know what they are going into? A battle. And a battle where the odds are not in our favor. Death is expected, and they know it. But they're still here. _We're _still here." Enjolras stared at her, his hazel eyes wide as he shook his golden head slowly.

"You are extraordinary, Elleth." For some reason, she found she couldn't look him in the eye again.

The apartment was hidden in the deeper alleyways of Paris, with a deep mahogany door and a charming entrance. Enjolras looked at his home, awkwardly shrugging his wide shoulders.

"It's not much, but it's what I have." Seeing his insecurity, Elleth grinned and said,

"I love it." A small smile made its way onto his face as the two walked inside, the girl thought she heard another quiet "extraordinary" from behind.

Enjolras cut in front of Elleth to lead the way up the creaky stairs, and he opened the first door on the right, gesturing for her to enter. She complied and the second that the girl walked into the room, the smile was inevitable. A single bed lay in the corner of the room, the walls were painted a soft yellow, and a small shag rug covered the floorboards. The best part of the room was on the wall, where a small window rested, letting in dim moonbeams. Enjolras once again seemed uncertain about her response. "Look, I lived homeless for most of my life. You have no idea how wonderful this is." The golden haired man beamed at the response, and as Elleth dropped her small bag of possessions onto the bed, he walked back into the hallway and crossed his arms, studying the redhead.

"My room is right across form yours if you need anything." She nodded curtly and the golden haired revolution leader started to turn around and head to his room but upon a sudden thought she stopped him with a quick hand to the shoulder. He looked at her, confused.

"Hey, um...thank you." Elleth said awkwardly, a messy lock of red hair falling into her face. A moments pause, and then,

"Oh. Don't worry about it." And with that, he turned around. Still feeling slightly unsettled, she added,

"Seriously." He didn't reply.

With the door shut behind her, Elleth sank down onto the bed and listened to the ever present crickets _chirp chirp _chirping into the night. Closing her eyes, she attempted to sleep. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Then thirty, forty, and soon enough an hour had passed and still she couldn't sleep. Every time she shut her eyes the faces of strangers invaded her mind, strangers with blood on their faces, the dark crimson standing out in contrast to the pale, dead skin, expressions twisted into something like terrified agony. She was the one that caused this, this death and destruction. Elleth couldn't take it anymore.

Sitting up haphazardly amongst the pile of sheets and blankets, suddenly the girl's stomach turned and a burst of nauseousness made her vision blur, creating a sea of dark blotches. It cleared away in a moment, but she still was left feeling like a murderer. And she would be. That was the whole point of joining the Amis. She was going to kill people, people that probably had families, and in return they would probably kill her. What were the chances of making it out of this alive?

Grantaire...Joly...Combeferre...Jehan...Feuilly... Bossuet...Marius...Gavroche...Enjolras...Courfeyra c. Would they live? Haunted by her thoughts, Elleth rose out of the small bed and sank down against the wall, her head buried deep in her arms to block out the noise of the silence. But this was her purpose. She _knew _this was what she was supposed to do with her life. The government had ruined her life, and she had to ruin theirs. If that meant killing people, then...that was what she was supposed to do. With that thought, Elleth controlled her breathing, set her shoulders straight, raised her head, and went to bed.

The morning, as always, brought a new day and Elleth was ready to do her job. It wasn't time yet, of course. The Amis was missing a great amount of ammunition and supplies that were still needed, where they were going to get that from she had no idea. The Amis probably didn't know either. Watching the sunlight filter into the room with her eyes half closed, Elleth sat up slowly and yawned, messy locks of dark red hair going in every which direction. The morning was silent for a just a moment, and then,

_"Elleth! We need to get to the café immediately!" _Enjolras came bursting into the room, his face aflush and his eyes wild. Shocked and worried, the girl jumped out of bed and put on her flats, gray eyes staying trained on the golden haired man, who at the moment looked more like a wild animal than anything else. A wild lion.

"What's wrong? What's happened?"

"General Lamarque is dead!" He merely yelled, running out of the room like a man on fire, leaving Elleth to chase after him into the streets. The two revolutionaries dashed through the winding streets of Paris, yelling at each other as they went along. "This is our chance! At his funeral in three days, that's when we have to attack!"

"Three days!" Cried the younger girl, her gray eyes wide and her breathing heavy. Enjolras was a fast man, after all. "We need more time to get ready!"

"There is no time!" he countered, and finally the ABC Café drew into their line of sight. The two burst in the front doors, startling all of the men inside into silence, all eyes on them. "General Lamarque is dead!" Enjolras yelled, prowling the lobby of the building, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "We will rebel in three days time! Be ready by then!"

Immediate chaos. It seemed that everybody had something to say, and all at the same time. Men ran two and fro, in and out of the building, a faces flashed by. There was Marius, and Grantaire. Courfeyrac appeared out of nowhere, his face slightly distressed, and when his gaze landed on Elleth, it relaxed as he neared.

"What is this madness?" He asked, shaking his head with worried eyes.

"This madness is the Amis, well, and Enjolras, for he is surely mad." She replied, feeling the adrenaline in her veins at the thought of the battle in three days. She could die in three days.

"We don't have enough ammunition yet, let alone weapons to spend it with!" The man said, his hair looking as if he had run his hands through it a thousand times in his distress.

"What can we do though? Enjolras said we will rebel in three days, so we will. We'll just have to be as ready as we can by that point." Courfeyrac nodded, still looking troubled, as he took a seat at the nearest table and put his head in his hands.

"We're not ready for this. _I'm _not ready for this." The man said, terrified voice alone making the girl pity him. A wry smile on her face, Elleth reached out and removed the hands from his face, placing them on the table so that she could look at him. "Courfeyrac, you will be fine. We have to have the power of belief. That is one of the strongest things in a battle. We need to believe in this cause. The Amis knows what they are getting into here, and they know what it is for. I know what purpose this has for me. This is for my parents." Courfeyrac looked up at her, his brown eyes slightly wide. He looked as if he were going to say something, but she interrupted. "Government soldiers broke into our house when I was young, maybe six or seven. They were quiet, so I didn't hear them right away...if I had heard them...anyway, they walked right into my parent's bedroom, and they didn't hesitate. They killed them right away, because of showing their support for the revolution. I don't know how they found us, but they did. They found us and they killed my parents, but they didn't know I was there. They didn't kill me. So here I am, and I know what I have to do. I know my purpose. I was left alive to right the wrong that happened when I was young. Even if I die, this is what I have to do with my life. I know what I have to do, and so do the rest of these men. So do you." There was something on his face that Elleth couldn't place.

"I'm sorry about your parents Elle. I really am." Courfeyrac said, shaking his head slowly. "And I swear, if there is anything I could ever do you help you, I will do it, you know?" She knew, strangely. He had known her for only a day and yet he says this...but it is true, and the girl knows it. There is a moment of silence, and then Grantaire stumbles out of nowhere into the chair next to Elleth. His black hair is an incredible mess, and his blue eyes are unfocused as usual.

"Nice to see you guys at this lovely meeting." He says with a humorous grin, and Elleth can't help but smile back at the man. "So...three days, huh? I'll see you there, I guess!" Yes, yes he would.

"You keep safe, all right Grantaire?" The girl said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "I would be a terrible mess if you died."

"I do have that affect on the ladies." Laughing, Elleth leaned back in her chair, gray eyes bright. If she did have to die, she wouldn't mind dying next to these men. Courfeyrac studied the girl before him, shaking his head once again. That girl always surprised him. Who would have thought she would be able to befriend the prickly drunk? Then again, who would have thought she would join a revolution, or make Courfeyrac crazy the way that he was? The world would never know.


	5. Chapter 4 - The Fountain

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 4 - "The Fountain"

After the general chaos finally calmed down, Elleth stood and was about to exit the café when Courfeyrac called out,

"Hey Elle, where are you going?" She turned around, gray eyes questioning as she looked at the man. His face was over all disheveled, with his dark curls going in every which way and stubble on his chin.

"Just out. Do you want to come?" Courfeyrac seemed pleasantly surprised by this offer, and he caught up with her quickly, a small grin on his face. The two walked side by side out of the building, when Courfeyrac suddenly suggested,

"I know just the place to go. Follow me?" Elleth didn't hesitate. She followed the man without a clue as to where they were going. Birds flocked upon the tall brick buildings of Paris, and the weather was all kinds of decent. As they walked, Elleth couldn't help but notice things. Courfeyrac was handsome, really. With soft brown eyes, which she had a weakness for though he would never find out, and the smile that was almost always present, Courfeyrac could persuade the girl to do almost anything. The sudden realization of this almost made her stop and shake her head. She was all too naive. After all, she had only known him for a day. Pushing those thoughts aside, Elleth looked up and noticed that they were drawing closer to a simple but beautiful fountain, the water trickling down from a stone sculpture of two people, their faces not shown but their arms wrapped around each other.

"We're here," Courfeyrac said, his voice laced with quiet pride. Elleth was too stunned, she could not say anything. "My mum used to bring me here when I was a kid...make a wish, she always said. Only one will work though, so you have to think real hard before you do it. I've already used up my one wish, but you...well, that's why I brought you." The enthusiasm on his face was contagious, and the redheaded girl couldn't stop the smile from appearing.

"How do I do it?" She asked, walking forward and putting her hands on the outerward ridge of the fountain. Courfeyrac, after a moment of though, daringly put his hands over her eyes and whispered next to her ear,

"Just close your eyes and make a wish in your head, not out loud or it won't work." There were so many things to wish for, how could Elleth choose? She thought about her purpose, and the fact that she really should wish for that to be completed. But for some reason, she didn't want to use it on that. Suddenly, it came to her. And she thought with quiet certainty,

_I wish...that when it all comes down to it, that the person I need most in my life won't die on me. _

"Are you done? Have you wished?" Courfeyrac asked, and Elleth merely nodded, solemn. Why had she wished on that? Honestly, the girl didn't know. And to be the one who was always supposed to know her purpose...well, that was scary.

Courfeyrac thought that she had a sort of terrified calm on her face when she opened her eyes, and he didn't ask about it. Something told him she wouldn't want to talk about it.

"What now?" Elle asked, her gray eyes slightly trouble still. Courfeyrac realized that he wanted to help put that look away.

"What now?" He stalled, a sly grin appearing on his face as he inched closer to the girl. "Oh...just...this!" He yelled, quickly dipping his hand into the fountain and unexpectedly dousing Elle with a splash of water. The look on her face was priceless. Her eyes were wide, seemingly disbelieving. That shock soon melted into mischief and then the two were running around the fountain, Elle screaming and laughing as she attempted to get Courfeyrac back for his crime. He had never felt so exhilarated! Suddenly the girl dashed out of nowhere, and then before he knew it the front of his shirt was soaked with fountain water. Looking up slowly, he guffawed loudly. Her face was twisted up into a competitive glare, nose wrinkled and brows drawn together, her eyes sparkling, playful. One lock of her red hair was out of its rightful position in the bun on top of her head. He couldn't resist. Reaching forward slowly, breathing uneven for some reason, Courfeyrac brushed the strand of hair away from her face and behind her ear gently. Elle froze. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks reddened, looking at the man who didn't appear ashamed at all.

"Courfeyrac...you shouldn't." She said, and he was silent, merely nodding. On the outside, he looked accepting, contrite. But on the inside he was disappointed, curious. These could very possibly be her last days...and she was going to turn him down. But he had to be okay with it, because it was Elle. No matter what she did he couldn't judge her for it, no matter how much he wanted to. Clearly awkward, Elle turned away and stated quietly,

"We should go. Enjolras might need me for something." Maybe she did not know it, but that was a low blow. Feeling the dangerous thread of anger work its way into his blood, Courfeyrac followed the girl, frustration making him call out,

"Wait know what, I need to know. You have a few days left before the battle where you could very well die, and I am trying to be nice and befriend you but you push me away when we get too close. What is wrong with you?" Courfeyrac growled, his face red and his fists clenched at his sides. She stiffened and then whipped around, silver eyes on fire.

"You want to know, Courfeyrac? You want to know that badly? Okay, fine!" She hissed, face closer to the man's than it had ever been. "I said I was fighting for my parents and that's true. But not for the reasons you think. I lied. They were for the revolution, yes, and they were murdered. But I don't want revenge because they were good people. My mum was a bitch. She beat up on me, my mother! She was constantly finding faults in me even as a toddler! She was a horrible mother, and I hated her." Courfeyrac couldn't say anything anymore. He was shocked into silence. Elle continued in her rage, tears starting to form in her eyes. "I hated my own mother! How pathetic, I know. But my father was a good person, he loved me with all of his heart and whenever my bruises would show he would kiss them and let me sleep in his bed with him while mum was out getting drunk. I had hoped that dad could heal her, heal our relationship and make us a real family. The soldiers murdered them before we could. Before we could have a family. I was denied that as a child, and that's why I joined the Amis. But here you come in, Courfeyrac, trying to get past my safety defense, my hatred. You are trying to get through my wall and that terrifies me!" The redheaded girl finished, breathing heavy. She was near sobbing by now, so furious and devastated all at once. Courfeyrac didn't say anything, he just watched the sad wreck of a girl, and then after a small moment's pause, he embraced her. She fell limply into his arms, and as he reached around and put his hands on top of her head, cradling the girl, she shook. Such brokenness. And it was so beautiful. The two stood there, in the middle of the empty street, holding each other as the wall fell down.

As the two made their way back to the café, no words were spoken. There wasn't anything to say, though every few minutes Courfeyrac would look to the side, just to see if she was okay. He couldn't help it...even after two days of knowing the girl it was his natural tendency, jus like caring for Gavroche. He noticed what her expression was, whether all of her hair was in the bun, or if she was feeling especially rebellious that day, a braid. He noticed if her eyes were gray or silver. He noticed if she was messing with her hands, if she was nervous.

And realizing all of this, he shook his head. _I am ridiculous, _he thought silently. Just like Marius, he was smitten with somebody he had only just met. However, unlike Marius, he couldn't tell her. He wouldn't. It could ruin everything to them, if she felt the same, what were they going to do about the revolution? The thought made Courfeyrac sick. What if he died? What if _she _died? But that was the point of it all, wasn't it? If they didn't succeed, they were supposed to be martyrs. To be honest, he was too soft hearted to kill anybody. Courfeyrac was more of the plans and thinking section of the Amis, but the men needed everyone they could find to help fight, so he would have to kill anyway. He was willing to give up everything for his brothers, even if it meant his life. He would die for every single one of those men, and they would die for him. That's how it worked in the Amis, with sacrifice. Their relationships were built upon loyalty.

What about Elle? Would she die for them as well? Looking sideways at the girl, she was so completely oblivious. He hoped that she would. He wanted, prayed for that same loyalty in her heart. The night before at the café, it seemed like she was one of the family. She laughed with them, drank with them, sang with them. But would she die for them? They couldn't know until the time came for the revolution, and Courfeyrac prayed that he wouldn't have to see her prove it. The man didn't know what he would do if he had to watch her die.

After Elle had placed her trust in Courfeyrac, telling him something that she had never told anyone, he was so afraid of failing her. So afraid that he would watch her bleed out for the revolution. So afraid that he would watch her die with her hatred. The thought was terrifying, and as he cast another sidelong glance at the redheaded girl, Courfeyrac swore upon the stars that he would never let that happen.

Elle was confused. Courfeyrac kept looking at her, as if he wanted to say something. What would he have to say? Was he rethinking his friendship with her after she had spilled her secret? She should have known he would think it was pathetic. But maybe it wasn't like that. The expression on his face didn't say disgust...if anything, it was the complete opposite of that. Elle wouldn't confront it, though. She had too much on the line, too much to spare.

She didn't really fancy him anyway, did she? For some reason, the answer didn't quite come to her. This was terrifying. The answer should have been a firm 'no'. But it wasn't, and she had no idea why. Maybe it was because of the fact that the two had become friends in such a short time. She could only think of him as a friend, anyway. With the revolution coming up in three days there was no time to have a petty romance. There was only time to steel herself for the approaching battle, only time to grapple with the fact that death was eminent. She couldn't waste time wondering about this man with his disarming brown eyes and the embrace that they had shared. There was no time for any of that!

_Your hatred is your weakness, _a harsh voice in the back of Elle's mind hissed. Her hatred was her weakness? How could that be? Her hatred have given her purpose, something to find solace in after her parents died. She had believed for her whole childhood that this was what she was supposed to do with her life. She couldn't question it now! But Courfeyrac made her question everything. This revelation was dangerous. Courfeyrac was dangerous. But she couldn't stay away, no matter how hard she tried. And it seemed for some reason...he couldn't stay away either. The two walked side by side on the gray cobblestone road, their shadows hanging low behind them, their future appearing murky and uncertain in the path ahead.

_Sorry this chapter took so long. With complications and high school, it was almost impossible to get it up in the time that I did. Pathetic, I know! Anyway, if you can't tell already, I freaking love Courfeyrac. Some of the things that are in this story are from my life and they've kind of...melded into the story. I find that kind of strange. Interesting how my mood effects my writing._


	6. Chapter 5 - The Fight, the Consolation

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 5 - "The Fight and the Consolation"

Enjolras paced back and forth, blocking out the noise of his fellow comrades and the sound of the old, dark wood that creaked beneath his weight. Thoughts swirled in his brain, clogging any other information besides the revolution. Three days, he had to be ready be in three days. There were matters of soldiers to consider, if they could find any more volunteers. They needed more ammunition, a countless number of bullets that he had no idea where to get from. Courfeyrac. He needed to talk to Courfeyrac. The man was the center, he knew where to find everything and who to buy it from.

Finally coming out of his daze, Enjolras looked around the lobby of the café. Empty chairs, empty tables, no Courfeyrac. There was absolutely no sign of the dark haired revolutionary, and Enjolras felt a thin prick of irritation work its way into his system. Where else would he have been than with the dratted girl? She was a part of the Amis, yes. But at times he found her bothersome. She distracted Courfeyrac like a mouse was distracted by cheese, and this was impossible to deal with. There was no way that he could keep Elle out of the revolution; her fury was something that couldn't be put out, a fire that always burned. Enjolras out of all people could appreciate this rage, as he was made out of the same passion. Running hand through his tangle of impossibly messy blonde curls, the man sank down into a chair, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes, just for a moment. Three days of rest...make that a minute of rest.

Suddenly the sound of the tall double doors opening made Enjolras startle upright, his hazel eyes snapped to the direction of the noise. The source of his frustrations and Elle stumbled in, both laughing about something that Enjolras would never know, Courfeyrac's hand laid lightly upon the redhead's lower back as he led her into the café. Why was he so bothered by this? Whether the two were around each other was none of his business, but the girl _was _his business. There was the fact that she was a recent member of the Amis, or maybe the fact that she was living in his apartment.

_What a stupid idea. _Enjolras chided himself internally, watching as the girl walked up the steps, and finally spotting him, shot him a short grin. Yes, how stupid. Feeling the slow burn of anger, the golden haired man stood from his chair and turned his back on the pair, walking away with only the sound of his retreating footsteps left echoing through the hallway.

"Is he all right? Maybe you should go talk to him, he looked a bit angry." Elle suggested, her fine brows drawn into two furrows, gray eyes worried. Courfeyrac looked down at the girl, taking a breath and flashing a brief grin.

"I suppose I should. We can't have Enjolras being grumpy. That's never a pretty sight." Elle laughed and settled down at one of the mahogany tables, calling after the dark haired revolutionary,

"Don't take too long! I get jealous easily!" Courfeyrac followed after Enjolras, not able to stop the laugh from bursting out of his mouth. Elle was a bizarre girl, that was for sure.

"You're upset today. What's wrong?" Startled, Enjolras's head jerked to face the curly haired man standing in the doorway of the weapon's room, his brown eyes slightly worried. He had not even heard his footsteps down the hallway. Struggling to find a response, Enjolras took a deep breath and responded,

"Nothing, nothing of course. I am fine. Just...very busy, and needed to talk to you about shipments and ammunition, revolution matters-"

"And I wasn't there. Now I understand." How was it that he had not even explained, and Courfeyrac knew what was in his mind? Had they known each other for so long? There was a sort of slight smile on the man's face, though Enjolras didn't understand why.

"Something tells me that isn't all though, is it." Courfeyrac stated, leaning back against the wall and studying his golden haired friend.

"What do you mean?" Enjolras asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. There wasn't anything particularly stressful besides planning the revolution, yet Courfeyrac seemed to think that there was.

"If I had been out with Gavroche or Combeferre you would have thought nothing of it. This has to do with Elle as well, doesn't it?" How was he supposed to respond to that? The comment had caught Enjolras completely off guard, and he shook his head, more for himself than for his audience.

"I admit the fact that you waste your time with that girl does irritate me, but what can I do? You can't stay away from her."

"It isn't wasting time. Completely the opposite, actually." Courfeyrac said bluntly, his face tight, the slight tic by his eyebrow telling the revolution leader that he had hit a sensitive subject. Maybe it was the long day, or the fact that he was absolutely riddled with stress, but Enjolras kept digging.

"It _isn't _a waste of time? Really? What did you do that was so absolutely productive?"

"You wear me out. Elle and I were just having fun."

"Fun that didn't involve the revolution."

"Exactly. I don't want to be dominated by such a thing, unlike you."

"You'd rather be dominated by Elleth?"

"You seem to like talking about her so much, maybe you're the one who needs to go and have fun with her since you sound so jealous about it."

"Oh please. I don't let such petty things take over my life."

"She isn't _petty._" Courfeyrac growled, his brown eyes turning from irritated to infuriated in a second.

"You seem awfully sensitive about that subject, don't tell me you've developed a crush." Enjolras teased, rolling his eyes, which only seemed to make the dark haired man even more frustrated.

"She doesn't seem to come from a high honored family, don't tell me she's a _vagabond._"

"She is, just like all of us!"

"Defensive, I see. Does she really hold that dear of a spot in your heart?" Enjolras drawled, picking up a random short sword and running his hand along its hilt slowly. Courfeyrac, his face red from anger and breathing hard, snatched the weapon out of the man's hands and slammed it back down where it came from, and Enjolras froze. He had just been teasing, but his friend was enraged.

"I know that you're just trying to make me angry, and it worked. Good for you. But you don't talk about Elle that way. _Ever._" He hissed, face in spitting distance of the revolutionary leaders',

"Even if you are teasing, next time it happens I swear you will regret it Enjolras." The golden haired man was left alone in the room as his friend whipped around and stormed out, the sound of his angry footsteps making much more noise than when he had first come in. Enjolras was still, and feeling the whole weight of the world on his shoulders once again, sighed and put on hand against the dark wallpaper to support his weight. What had become of him, what had the stress done to make him act in such a way? He honestly did not even mind Elleth, she was pleasant and kind. She was a part of the family. Shaking his head, Enjolras knew that he should go and apologize, but his pride was too great. Tomorrow he would talk to Courfeyrac, if the man would even look at him.

Courfeyrac came back into the room will all of the ferocity and violence of a tornado, finally dying out when he dropped down into a chair across from the redheaded girl, who could only widen her gray eyes in surprise. He looked up at Elle, appearing about as weak as a cat in a rainstorm.

"I let him get to me. I shouldn't have. But he was talking about you like...like you were some awful street mongrel." The girl shook her head, placing her hands lightly over his on the table, and without even trying his fingers curled around hers effortlessly, as if it were natural.

"You two are almost brothers, I know. Don't worry, you will work it out. Good friends always do." Courfeyrac looked up, his brown eyes softer somehow. Elle laughed and withdrew her hands discreetly, leaning back in her chair as she teased, "And as for me, you don't have to go fighting with your friends over what they say. I can handle myself, you know that. If I have to punch a guy in the nose, I can punch a guy in the nose." Courfeyrac snorted, his mood lifted instantly and the inevitable picture in his mind arose. He could imagine her doing such a thing, and knowing Elle, she wouldn't hesitate.

After a brief moment of silence, the girl looked Courfeyrac in the eye and said seriously, "But really. Talk to him tomorrow. You never know when your next chance to do so will be." He nodded silently, marveling inside at how wise beyond her years Elle was. Her advice was irreplaceable. And she was right, of course. He would talk to Enjolras tomorrow. They were too good of friends, of brothers, to let anything come between their relationship. Courfeyrac couldn't even imagine the amount of pressure that must have been on the revolution leader at that moment. He imagined it would drive anyone to the point of mocking their fellow friend.

Elle watched Courfeyrac quietly, realizing that she wanted to help him. Whether it was a small fight with a brother or a bullet wound, she would do anything that she could to heal and restore. Something told her that she would want to protect Courfeyrac, even if he could protect himself.

Her heart leaped in her chest, making a wonderful and terrible feeling all at once. Elle knew what it was, she wasn't stupid. But whether it was a good or bad thing...well, she didn't know. But sometimes not knowing was okay. Elle didn't know whether she would make it to the end of the week. She didn't know if any of her friends would survive, or whether the revolution would have any effect on the way that things were. She didn't know if Courfeyrac really felt anything for her, and if he did, if he would tell her. She didn't know if Enjolras would ever open up to her as she had to Courfeyrac, if his past was ugly or pretty. But now, as her heart beat at double pace, causing a certain look to come over her face, Elle knew.

It was a good sort of knowing, one that rooted itself deep inside and started to bloom. Elle knew now that even if Courfeyrac did not have feelings for her...she had them for him. They were dangerous feelings, beautiful and wonderful all at the same time. They would consume her, she knew. Starting off small and simple now, they were unassuming. But they would grow to be stronger than a hurricane, more passionate than an intense fire, and more mysterious than the bottom of the ocean. They would stretch out tall as the mountains across the sky, deeper than the darkest trench. She didn't know this now, of course. She could only feel the beginning bud, the new, innocent, green start of life.

Little did she know, Courfeyrac was beyond this. He was beyond the first rays of the dawn, further than Elle could ever fathom at this point. Unlike Elle, however, the man knew that he could not tell her. He couldn't risk it, the possibilities that came with the jump. He could fall hard, fall to his death. But Elle was willing to risk it when the time came. She was willing to tell him, if she felt it in such a way that was pure and absolute, she would tell him, because she knew that he deserved it. Courfeyrac deserved being told, deserved the fact of knowing. She knew that before anything happened, the secret would have to be told. Because she knew well enough that if there is one thing that is any more absolute than love, it was death.

_I really enjoyed writing the ending part of this chapter...poor Enjolras, being driven to the point of lashing out at Courfeyrac. I know, I'm cruel. I find it very odd that Elle is the one who would tell Courfeyrac if she loved him, and not the other way around. Courfeyrac seems like the kind of person that would tell them, but I guess he's a little bit more focused with protecting Elle at this point. His reasoning is more in the fact that if he told her, he wouldn't want to fight because he might die and therefore not have a future with her. Does that make any sense? I have no idea._


	7. Chapter 6 - Another Sleepless Night

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 6 - Another Sleepless Night

The trip home with Enjolras was anything but talkative. He was walking about as far away from Elle as was socially acceptable, and whenever their gazes would cross paths he would avert his eyes as quickly as possible. When you are the only two people in the street, this can become increasingly irritating. Finally, after three minutes more of the horrible silence, Elle huffed, threw her hands in the air with dramatic flair, and said, "Jesus Christ Enjolras, I know that you talked bad about me to Courfeyrac but I don't care. Can we just get over it now?" He startled, head snapping to face the blunt redheaded girl.

"Oh...um...of course, yes, that would be satisfactory." He said, hands clasped behind his back in a sort of submissive gesture. Elle's gray eyes widened and she was silent for a second before letting her loud, generous laugh ring out through the empty street.

"Oh lord, I've never heard you stutter before! Enjolras, the big bad revolution leader, scared stiff because he called a girl half his size a few names!" Elle seemed to find this entirely too hilarious, as she wiped a stray tear away before punching the man on the arm playfully.

"You find my terror funny?" Enjolras asked, letting a grin appear on his face as he went along with the charade.

"Yes, I do." Was all she could say, shaking her head at their light camaraderie. There was a pause, and Elle took that moment to notice how tired Enjolras looked, rather like the first time they had walked to his apartment.

"Hey," She said quietly, and he turned his head and looked at her, one of his fine golden eyebrows raised, waiting. "If you need to talk to me about anything, you know that you can, right?" She asked, feeling rather foolish but wanting him to know that it was true. Elle knew how it felt to have the stress completely overwhelm you, like a salty wave of ocean water just crashed over her head, intending to drown and suffocate. Enjolras's face softened, and his head bowed low to stare at the cobblestone as they treaded leisurely along, the sounds of laughing children echoing out from the distance, bouncing across the tall brick apartments lined with ivy.

"Yes, thank you Elleth. The past days have been...busy, to say the least. I'm truly sorry for antagonizing Courfeyrac like I did, and I plan to tell him tomorrow. I didn't mean anything that I said; you are one of us you know." The statement was so unexpected, in such a good way. Elle felt it in her stomach, the feeling of happiness at being accepted. She hadn't expected it to happen so suddenly, but boys had taken her under their wings and kept her there. It didn't look to be changing anytime soon.

"Thank you Enjolras. I rather like it with all you rascals." Elle commented, her lips turning up into a wry grin. The golden haired man chuckled, large hands fiddling with the sleeves of his red coat, a comical sight. His face was light for a moment, but then it shifted to worried curiosity as he turned his head to face the girl at his side.

"I've been worried about this all day, and forgive me for asking, but...I heard your footsteps last night, far later than most people fall asleep. Are you...feeling well?" Elle stiffened, feeling the memories of the images from the night before, etching themselves back into her brain. She had only just forgotten them, the flashing pictures of suffering people, and she had wanted them to stay in the dark recesses of her mind safety tucked away.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"Elle."

"No, really."

"No, you're not fine. I can tell."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I worry, okay?" After the quick confrontation, Elle averted her eyes from the revolution leader and ignored his statements. "Please, tell me what is keeping you up at night. If I am allowed to talk to you, it's only fair that you can talk to me too." The man kept persisting, and finally the girl gave in. She looked him full in the face, his hazel eyes wide with worry as she whispered,

"Fine. I was having nightmares of people that I haven't even killed yet." She hadn't even noticed that they had stopped walking, just standing in the middle of the street, eyes locked, ice and fire. After a moment of thickly charged silence, Enjolras replied in a voice just as quiet as the other's,

"I do too." Elle was not expecting that. Her gray eyes widened, staring at the man. He did seem tortured in the morning, as if he had spent all night tossing and turning with fits of horribles images like she had. Struggling to find the words, Elle finally spoke, her voice trembling with the pure unadulterated emotion.

"I am so glad that I could join you all in this, because I need to avenge my da-my _parents, _but I am so scared that I'm going to die. I don't want to die." Enjolras looked at the girl, finally noticing that she did look scared. Terrified was the better word. Here she was, confessing all of this: the nightmares, the fears of dying, and she had kept all of this inside? He knew what that could do to a person. He had buried his own fears, throwing himself head on into the revolution, knowing that his boys needed a passionate leader. Sometimes that led to people thinking that he wasn't petrified for the battle, but he was. Maybe more than other people, because if anybody died, he would feel the immense guilt for his comrades.

"I can't guarantee that you won't die," He said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "But I can guarantee that I will try to protect you." The two started to walk again, because there didn't seem to be anything else to say. Elle stared ahead at the winding alleyways, and finally turning to face Enjolras, said unexpectedly,

"I think I'm going to go and walk around a bit. I'll probably be back late, don't stay up for me." The man didn't have any time to say anything in reply. The redheaded girl had already dashed off, leaving startled Enjolras to wonder if she would be able to find her way back.

Gavroche was inside the huge ivory elephant, resting a bit against the thin wooden planks serving as a seat in the open shaded environment. This was one of the other meeting places of the revolution, and only a few people knew about it. The boy startled when a flash of red appeared in the small peephole, and he stood immediately.

"Password?" He hissed, putting his eye close to the opening to try and get a glimpse at the visitor. A pause, and then the voice came.

"Ah...what was it again...I swear Courfeyrac told me...oh yes! It's 'Grantaire put the bottle down'." Gavroche laughed, finally recognizing the redheaded woman as Elle, the lady that he had led to the Amis.

"Come right in!" He called out, sliding open the small door in. Elle climbed in cautiously, and when she caught sight of the blonde haired vagrant, she grinned, stuck out her hand for him to shake, and exclaimed,

"Good day m'sieur! Vive la France!" He couldn't help himself from smiling right back and taking her hand.

"What brings you here?" Gavroche asked after the two settled down, the boy on one of the planks and Elle just sat right down on the floor, drawing her knees up under her chin.

"I just wanted to talk to you...I know Courfeyrac speaks highly of you, and I was bored, so." Gavroche perked up immediately at the name of his friend, and he quirked a blonde eyebrow, smirk on his face.

"Courfeyrac talks to you?" He quizzed, staring at the girl, who unknowingly reddened slightly at his comment.

"Yes, we're good friends." She answered with absolute certainty. The small revolutionary jumped at the chance to tease, he blue eyes sparkling with slight mischief. "I'm surprised he worked up the nerve to talk to you, having a horrible crush on you and everything." Elle immediately denied the idea, a small smile creeping onto her face.

"Of course he doesn't! Courfeyrac is just my friend, of course."

"Whatever you say."

"No, really! We just hang out, that's all."

"Sure."

"Why do you sound so disbelieving?"

"Maybe because it's obvious that he has a crush on you."

"He does not!"

"Does too!"

"Look, he and I have a very platonic relationship!"

"I don't know what platonic means, but it's not true!"

"Trust me."

"There has to be sparks, you're exactly the kind of girl Courf would go for. You deserve him." After finding nothing to say to that, Elle merely shook her head with a small laugh and looked down at the wooden planks, her gray eyes trained on anywhere but the young boy.

"Anyway, Courf is awesome. He's a really good person, just so you know." Gavroche said, fingering the red white and blue patch on his tweed jacket, fingers short and dirty.

"I know," Elle replied quickly, and she did know. Courfeyrac was an amazing person. "He's helped me through a lot of things already, and we barely know each other. Something tells me he's going to make going through the revolution a whole lot easier." The blonde boy looked at the girl, his head tiled to the side, noticing that she was saying this with complete sincerity.

"I hope you don't die, Elle." The statement was so unexpected and so heart wrenching all at the same time. Elle looked up, feeling her steady state of mind break just a little bit. She couldn't handle all of these confessions. Something about the way that Gavroche had said it just made everything harder.

"I hope you don't die too, buddy, if it means anything." She said, trying not to let her voice crack. Nobody would go after Gavroche, would they? He was just a little kid, he hadn't even seen his share of the world yet. The thought of this made Elle's heart break. She wouldn't let anybody hurt him. He was too young, too innocent. If she had to sacrifice something in order to keep the child safe, she would do it. This revelation made the girl freeze. What was it about these boys that made her attached to them so quickly? It was a dangerous habit, and yet she had become friends with every member of the Amis in under a day. What was she going to do if any of them died?

"Hey lady," Gavroche said quietly, causing Elle to lift her head and look at him, particles of light flooding in through the elephant's walls and creating a halo of sorts around his golden head.

"Yeah?" She asked, awaiting his answer in the quiet of the revolution hideout. There was something peaceful about the small nooks and crannies, maybe the fact that it was hidden away from the rest of the world in such an obvious place. Maybe it was the silence, the complete isolation from the bustling city of Paris. Maybe it was Gavroche.

"Don't forget about Courfeyrac, okay? He needs you." Gray eyes soft, the girl rose and placed her hand on the boy's shoulder gently.

"I won't forget about him, don't worry. I promised I wouldn't let him die."

"Good." Gavroche said quickly, his face set in a firm mask of determination, such a mature look on such a young person. "I don't want him to die either. He's my brother, after all." Of course, Courfeyrac wasn't his actual brother. But what did it matter, in these hard times? Everybody was related to everyone that they loved, and in this case, the Amis were a family. A dysfunctional one at that, but a family nonetheless. A family that loved each other to know bounds. A family that would die for one another in a heartbeat. Elle knew that she would die for the boys, and that they would die for her. She just prayed that she wouldn't have to see them fall. They were too high of angels to fall from such a high heaven.

_Gosh the end of this chapter...so emotional. Every chapter is really emotional for me, but there's also those light parts. I cracked myself up when Gavroche was like 'I don't know what platonic means, but it isn't true!' he's one of the lighter characters of Les Mis and I really appreciate the development of his personality._


	8. Chapter 7 - Things That Come Out

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 7 - Things That Come Out at Night

It was late at night in the city of Paris. The occasional stranger scattered through the streets, their scarves wrapped tightly around their necks, breath appearing visible in short staccato burst of the winter chill. They all rushed, expressions frozen in wary suspicion, and they made sure that their gazes never crossed with one another. They were scared, because no matter how innocent the city seemed during the day, there were monsters that crawled out in the night.

Elle folded her arms tightly against her body, feeling the subzero temperatures seep into her bones with the equal silence and danger of a serial killer. Something about this night didn't feel right...but that was silly. Perhaps it was just her gut making her uneasy. The dark fell particularly thick around these parts, filling every nook and cranny so that there was no space for even an inch of light.

Why hadn't she worn something warmer? It was winter after all, and common sense should have told her enough to at least wear a coat. Feet padding lightly as she moved forward, Elle's silver eyes cast upward and she could've sworn there was a shadow that moved in the corner...

_Enough of this, _she thought to herself, feeling her worries were petty. She just had to keep moving...Enjolras's apartment couldn't be that much further, could it? She was about to take another step further when a cold hand, pale white skin standing out in the darkness, reached out and gripped her wrist tightly, the voice hissing from behind her,

"Don't move or I swear I'll blow your head off." She didn't have time to think, let alone scream. The assailant aggressively shoved a dirty piece of cloth into Elle's mouth, tugging it back against her throat and making her choke, instincts screaming at her to spit it out but she couldn't. A harsh, pungent smell drafted up into her nose for 5...10...20 seconds, and her vision started to blur. The man behind her put an arm violently around her waist, holding her up before gravity took it's course and she dropped into oblivion. Hidden behind a tall brick building, the little boy's blue eyes widened.

"They've taken 'er! They've taken Elle!" The boy burst into the café, his cheeks rosy from exertion and his eyes wide with terror. Immediately all conversation in the building ceased, all heads turned. A dark curly haired man stood, his fists clenched at his sides as he ran to the child, kneeling at his feet.

"What did you say?" He asked, voice startlingly calm.

"Some guy took Elle, shoved a cloth in her mouth and she passed out! We gotta go find her!" Gavroche answered, frantic. Courfeyrac put both of his hands on the boy's shoulders, trying to comfort the boy as his own nerves raced like a thoroughbred horse. "Where did they take her?" The man asked, feeling the pure anger bloom in his veins. Why would anybody take Elle? What had she done? Courfeyrac swore that whoever took her would be on their knees for mercy by the time he was done with him. "They took 'er to the old house by the docks, the one with ivy on it." The action was immediate, all the men in the café stood and went to find their rifles, and Courfeyrac stood, yelling out,

"Somebody go find Enjolras and tell him, he should be at his apartment." Grantaire rushed over, and surprisingly for once he was sober enough to understand what was going on.

"Who took her Gav? I swear I'll rip their head off." The blonde haired boy shrugged in return, the only thing he knew about the man was his pale white hands. "Nobody touches Elle," Grantaire growled, his vibrant blue eyes fierce with protectiveness. "Elle's one of us." Courfeyrac found himself surprised at the man's obvious display of anger, he hadn't been expecting Grantaire to open up and accept the girl so quickly. But that was something to think about for another time. Finally all the men of the Amis found their way back into the lobby, faces a mix of determined silence and anger over a missing comrade. Courfeyrac, realizing that they were all waiting for his command, shouted out,

"Let's go save Elle!"

Elle swore she never wanted to see a man again in her life. Filled with a deep sense of disgust and helplessness, she wanted to scream and sob all at once. This wasn't what it was supposed to be like. This wasn't who it was supposed to be with. Feeling tears leak out of her dagger sharp silver eyes, the girl fell limp. She was tied down, arms and legs restrained. What had she done to deserve this? Did God have no mercy? For the second time in her life, Elle was terrified.

_I want to die, _she realized, with horrible clarity. Death had to be better than this. _Please God. _She prayed, but she had never prayed before, so what use would it be? She was driven to such desperate measures now, and even if it didn't work, she had to try something.

_Please God, send somebody. Send...Courfeyrac, please. Send Courfeyrac. Send Courfeyrac. Send Courfeyrac. _She had to be strong. She had to survive through this. She had to go on. She thought of the curly haired revolutionary, the slight smile he always wore when they talked. Ten minutes...then fifteen...then twenty. _Please, Courfeyrac. I need you. _The revelation that she actually needed somebody in her life, that thinking of this person made her happy, was her solace in this moment. Then she looked down at the man, with his pale, freezing hands, and she nearly broke down. _Think of his eyes, Elle. Think of his smile. It'll all be okay if you think of him. Just think. Don't focus on the man, Elle. Just think of Courf. _Ten minutes passed in the tense silence, but Elle was surviving on only her thoughts. The night was quiet, and as the redhead's eyes drifted over to the window on the right of the wall, the glass panes reflecting to an ugly pictures, she swore she saw a flash of movement. _Please._ There was a rustle, the sound of hushed whispers, and then the door burst open, bringing with it her salvation. The whole hoard of the Amis rushed in, their eyes widening as the ugly sight before them. Courfeyrac stood out among the crowd, his face first horrified, and then brokenhearted, and then furious. He charged forward, grabbing the back of the man's tattered coat and hauling the disgusting creature off of Elle. She hadn't even noticed that she had started to sob, whole hearted body shaking sobbing. While the other men properly dealt with her attacker, Courfeyrac quickly untied her, being especially gentle with her hands, as her wrists were rubbed bright red, raw.

"Oh god, Courfeyrac!" She cried out, hot tears falling down her cheeks. The man didn't even look at her body, he merely shrugged off his red coat and wrapped her in it, making sure that not an inch of skin showed. The next thing that he did was extraordinary. Courfeyrac took the terrified girl into her arms, cradling her close to his chest as tightly as was physically possible.

"Shhhh, shhh it's okay Elle. It's okay." He whispered, stroking her red hair softly as she shivered against him.

"I prayed for you to come, Courfeyrac. I prayed for you." She whispered brokenly, her gray eyes shut against the world. She didn't want to look any more. She didn't want to look at her body. Something possessed the man to lean down and place a silent kiss on the girl's forehead, and Elle knew she would never forget that moment.

"It's okay. I'm here now. I promise I won't leave you." He said quietly, as if it were a mantra. He wouldn't leave her, and Elle knew that. She knew now how she felt. It was a clear as the first rays of the dawn. The redheaded girl, who before had been full of only hatred, who's only life purpose was revenge, had finally fallen.

Courfeyrac had never seen anybody so terrified before. The sight had awakened something protective, something territorial inside of him, and now it seemed like instinct to comfort her. God, when he had seen that man. That _man, _Courfeyrac just wanted to kill him. He had never felt such a hatred in his blood, such a fury, but in that moment it was there, and it was powerful. He had wanted to kill the urchin for hurting Elle. Courfeyrac had never wanted to kill anybody before, but that wasn't as important as the girl that sat sobbing.

She was his first priority, not matter what. Elle was always the most important thing in his life. So he wrapped his coat around her, and then he embraced the shivering girl. But she had prayed for him. For _him. _And oh christ, when she looked up at him with those gray eyes, so full of gratefulness and complete adoration, he almost lost it and kissed her right then. She had gone through so much, and the only thing that she could say was that she had prayed for him. The thought was astounding. But for now, all he could do was hold her, and promise her that everything was going to be okay. That he was here, and that he wasn't going to leave her.

When all the Amis had come forward to hug her, especially Grantaire, Courferyac smiled. Enjolras sat in the back of the room, his face contorted into what could only be described as horrible gut wrenching guilt. He was horrified. Courfeyrac knew the leader would talk to her at his own time, eventually he would have to approach her. Finally, when it was time to leave the dreaded house, Elle stuck closely next to Courfeyrac, her arm gripping his tightly, she looked up at him and asked,

"Can I stay with you tonight?" His head whipped to face her, his brown eyes wide with surprise. The girl's cheeks reddened in embarrassment, and she looked down, explaining, "It's just that...I don't really want to be alone...and I thought you wouldn't mind, but if you do then I'l just go to Enjol-"

"No, it's fine. You can come to my apartment." She looked up at him, a weak smile appearing, and once again he wanted to kiss her.

_I've got to get this under control, _the man thought to himself wryly.

"Thank you Courfeyrac. It's just...never mind." The two walked out of the building, slightly behind the rest of the Amis. The street lamps glowed with a soft hazy light, and the cobblestone under Courfeyrac's feet finally felt solid again. They would recover from this. The man found his eyes drawn to the girl, her bright red hair sticking out from underneath his oversized jacket, the sleeves ending down far over from where her hands fell. Her skin was like porcelain in the dimly lit alleyway, her lashes draping across her fine cheekbones with the delicacy of a noble. It was no wonder he had fallen for such a creature, the angel that she was. How was he going to deal with this? How could he not tell her? This girl that had entrusted her whole life into his hands, she deserves to know. She deserves to know how he spends all of his spare time noticing these little things about her that she probably doesn't even know about herself. She deserves to know how much he loves her.

_My god, I love her. _Courfeyrac thought, so startled by the thought that he stopped walking in the middle of the street, his brown eyes wide as he stared up at the sky, the incomprehensible stars.

"What is it Courfeyrac?" The girl asked, her red hair creating a fiery halo around her face in the moonlight.

"Everything." He answered, unable to stop the smile from creeping onto his face. "Everything."

_I'm sorry that I did that to you guys. But you have to admit, in this time period, that is entirely realistic. Plus I thought it would add a really good bonding scene with Courf and Elle, and goodness sakes I was right._


	9. Chapter 8 - The Grief of Courfeyrac

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 8 - The Grief of Courfeyrac

_If you really want to make this chapter even more cute, you should listen to Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran while you read it. It really adds to the feeling, you know?_

God, that look. Courfeyrac wished she would stop giving him that _look. _That look of complete adoration, like he was the best thing in the world. If she didn't stop giving him The Look soon, it would become absolutely impossible for him to survive the night. Elle was a horribly beautiful creature, no doubt sent down by God to personally torture him. How in the world was he going to be able to handle her being in his house? The thought was unfathomable. There was a very high chance that the man was going to lose it and kiss her unexpectedly, and goodness who knows what would happen if he did that? There was a little voice in the back of Courfeyrac's brain that told him she might not care. It probably had something to do with The Look.

They were just going to sleep. He swore. Courfeyrac had the whole night mentally scripted out. He would lead Elle in, shrug and say some comment about it not being much, ask her if she wanted some sleeping clothes of his, he would offer her the bed, and then they would go to sleep in separate locations, and everything would be okay. Courfeyrac promised himself he wouldn't lose it.

When the pair made it to Courfeyrac's apartment, he opened the door for her, brown eyes noticing every reaction on her face. The girl smiled, one of _those _smiles that made his stomach turn into a pathetic melting puddle and his heart-well, that was another story altogether.

"I like it." She said simply, but it made Courfeyrac indescribably happy, just to have her accept a part of his life, even as little as this. _Stick to the plan, stick to the plan, _the man chanted in his head, finding it terrifying that he had to keep reminding himself to do so.

"It's not much, but it's home." Courfeyrac stated, mentally earning a point for the preplanned line. His apartment was simple but charming, with a small kitchen in the corner, the living room stationed across on the other side of the wall, and the main bedroom up a creaky set of stairs.

"I have some sleeping clothes if you need them," Courfeyrac commented, and the girl turned to quickly glance at him, but then shifted her gaze elsewhere, which was strange.

"Um...yes, I just...I want to get out of these clothes." The man felt a pang of pity hit his gut. Elle had gone through so much tonight. No wonder she had wanted to stay with him. "Sure, um, there's a dresser in my bedroom upstairs, just take whatever you need." Courfeyrac said, his brows furrowed as he watched the girl run off, up to change, as if she were needing to escape. Feeling the exhaustion of all tonight's events hit him full force, he sank down into a chair at the kitchen table, one hand supporting the weight of his head. How was he supposed to heal her? Was he supposed to even try? But of course he was. Elle was...Elle. He would have to try everything that he could to make her better.

_Stick to the plan. _Courfeyrac sighed, knowing that if the girl asked for anything, anything at all, he couldn't deny her. _Stick to the plan. _Elle reappeared just as quickly as she had gone, and instead of the filthy dress she had been wearing before, she was now only wearing one of Courfeyrac's blue dress shirts, the hem hanging well below her waist. The girl's gray eyes lifted to his face, and she looked so tired, so worn. Elle's bright red hair, which was usually in neat gentle waves, fell instead in a messy disarray of fiery curls. Courfeyrac couldn't handle this.

_Stick to the plan, stick to the plan, stick to the plan. _

"Um," The man started, sounding so ridiculously flustered, "You can have the bed." _Score, _Courfeyrac thought, finally spitting out the sentence that had been stuck in his throat. Elle's eyes widened slightly, and he thought he caught a glimpse of unexpected disappointment before she answered,

"Thank you. I'll just...go now. Good night Courf."

"Good night." He responded immediately, though on the inside he was filled with such turmoil. She was going to be alone. Alone. After a night such as this, with all that she had gone through, and he was going to make her be alone. _Screw the plan. _

"Wait, Elle," Courfeyrac called out, his voice slightly nervous as the girl turned around and looked at him, her brow raised, hopeful.

"Do you mind if I..?"

"Come with me." The two spoke at the same time, the words a jumbled mess but the meaning was clear. They were both complete idiots. Elle reached out her hand, small and dainty compared to Courfeyrac's, and sent him a sidelong grin.

The two collapsed into bed, both exhaling at the same time, the sound mingling with the chirping of the crickets. The sheets were soft against her abused skin, and as Elle sank into them she couldn't help the quiet sigh that escaped her lips as she got adjusted, turning to face Courfeyrac, who appeared completely content. The man's chocolate brown curls spilled across his forehead, matching eyes opened to land on the woman lying on the other side of the bed. He was so screwed. After a moment of comfortable silence in the dark room, Elle looked at Courfeyrac and was about to speak when he groaned loudly,

"Please stop giving me that goddamned look."

"What look?"

"You know what look."

"No, no I do not."

"That look where you just...you just..."

"I just what?"

"Jesus, Elle. Just stop looking at me like I'm the best person in the world!" Silence fell, and the woman chuckled quietly, a lock of her bright red hair falling into her face. She brushed it away slowly, and as she did, the humor of the comment seemed to fall flat. Her gray eyes raised to the man beside her, and then she stated with all seriousness,

"But you are. For saving me." A little piece of Courfeyrac's heart broke, and even surprising himself, he raised a hand and smoothed down the hair on one side of her head, keeping his gentle grip there for a moment before letting gravity pull his hand back down to the cream colored sheets.

"I swear Elle," Courfeyrac whispered, the bedroom filled with moonlight air. "If I could have done anything to stop it...I would have, you know?"

"I know. You're a great man, Courf. It was just so...so terrifying," She answered, voice breaking halfway as she seemed to lose the bravery to finish the sentence. Courfeyrac wrapped his arms around her slim frame, hands cradling her fiery head just as they had earlier that night.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm not leaving, I swear."

"That wasn't how it was supposed to be Courfeyrac! He was disgusting and he had these pale, cold hands and I just-I just!" She cried out, feeling the sobs shake her body once again, such ugly noises ripping out of her throat. How could she get over this? Was it even possible? This wasn't what Elle had been expecting out of her life.

"I'm here." Courfeyrac said quietly, his mouth bent close to her ear, brushing the tendrils of hair back out of her face softly. He was so far gone.

"I just couldn't handle it, and I just had to think of something to keep my mind off of it and it was you, Courfeyrac. I'm sorry if that freaks you out but it's true. You may not even be able to think of me that wa-"

"Hush, Elle." He interrupted, sounding rather calm but inside he was having a heart attack. "Let's not go there now, please. Let's just sleep, and you won't have any nightmares, okay? I'll make sure of it." The woman nodded, silent now, and unexpectedly ducked her head so that it was buried in his chest. If he wasn't careful, Courfeyrac swore she would be able to hear his heart racing. The man couldn't resist kissing the top of her head softly before leaning back against the down pillow and closing his eyes.

Elle woke up in the middle of the night, her gray eyes flicking open slowly to see Courfeyrac's limbs draped all over her body, his soft and steady breathing a soothing noise in the otherwise silent room.

_I love him. _She realized, unable to stop the soft smile from creeping onto her face. His face was the mask of absolute peacefulness, such innocence in such a great man. She had never loved anyone like him before, and admitting it was hard enough. He could never return these feelings, but that was okay. When the time came for her to tell him, she would. Even if it endangered the two of them at the same time, she would tell. Courfeyrac deserved to be told. In the morning perhaps, or the next day.

The night was still in the small Paris apartment, and Elle had never felt more content in her life. Sure, the night had been absolutely horrible and terrifying, but Courfeyrac was there to help her get through it. She could survive, because of him. Elle thought back to the moment that they met, when she had sprained her ankle. He had been there to carry her all the way back to the café Musain, and he hadn't thought a thing of it. Courfeyrac was a good man. _I couldn't have chosen anyone better to fall for, _she realized, laying her head back down on his chest, rising up and down slowly. The woman grinned. She was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Who would have thought, that simply joining the Amis would have introduced so many opportunities.

"I love you." She whispered quietly, just quietly enough for just her own ears to hear. The night drew long, and Elle drifted off into a deep sleep again, her hand still draped on the man's chest.

Birds twittered on top of the Paris apartments, the bluebirds perching on the stone ledge of the window. Sunlight peeked in through the window curtains, fracturing into splintered shapes and playing across the faces of the two revolutionaries lying in bed, arms and legs draped across each other in random directions. Courfeyrac's brown eyes flickered open, and for a shocking second he had absolutely no idea who was in his bed. The memories of the night before flooded back into his mind, and then he realized that it was of course, just Elle.

_Just Elle? _Courfeyrac scoffed mentally. As if there was ever just Elle. The woman's red hair fell in every which way, and soft breath escaped her mouth in and out, in and out. He was so far gone. Trying to devise a game plan of escaping the bed without waking the redhead, Courfeyrac shuffled to the side, grimacing as the sheets made a loud sliding noise, piercing the air that had once been silent.

Finally escaping the confines of the warm bed, Courfeyrac stood, his bare feet touching the cold wooden planks as he padded downstairs and into the kitchen, running a hand through his messy head of brown curls. God, he had just spent the night with Elle, and he had known her for, what? Three days? A chuckle escaped the man's mouth as he settled down at the simple table, contemplating what was going to happen after this.

What would the Amis think? What would _Enjolras _think? The thought was terrifying, but yet satisfying at the same time. After all, how many times had he wished for this to happen, though perhaps not in the exact way that it did? To put it simply, Courfeyrac was screwed.

The soft sound of footsteps interrupted the man's silent reverie, and as he raised his head to look at the top of the stairs, he caught glimpse of the most unearthly woman, her hair making a fiery halo in the morning sunlight. As her gray eyes landed on Courfeyrac sitting at the table, her lips curved upward into a stunning smile. No, saying that he was screwed did not even encompass all of the reasons for why this was wrong, but Courfeyrac didn't care. He _loved it._

_Gah this chapter was so romantic I can barely stand it. Gotta love the gentleman Courfeyrac. :)_


	10. Chapter 9 - One Day More

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 9 - One Day More

_By the way just so you can get a picture of what Elle looks like, I'm thinking along the lines of Emma Stone with gray eyes, sound good? Basically, this is a freaking comic relief chapter to give you a break from all of the angst that is and was and will be._

_(Distance by Christina Perri for this section)_

Enjolras was busier than he had ever been, taking in the shipments of ammunition and weaponry and making sure that the Amis was gaining soldiers day by day.

_One day more, _he thought to himself wryly, running one hand through his impossibly tangled golden curls and glancing towards the double doors of the café. Ever since last night the man had been unable to stray his thoughts away from Elle...he knew he never should have let her run off at night. The thought of that man, no he had not earned the right to be called as such, the _beast _made his blood boil with rage. And not only that, he had let her walk off with Courfeyrac, not even giving her a simple reassurance. For all he knew they had already slept together, and for reasons that Enjolras didn't know at that moment, the thought made him furious and heartbroken all at once. Why had he not approached her? It should have been him that had taken the redhead home, not Courfeyrac.

Maybe his gut had been telling him to keep his distance...that coming any closer to the girl would prove to be dangerous in the end, that she would hurt him in ways that he didn't even know yet. It was like they were two magnets of the same poles, pushing against each other with every ounce of power that they had. Why was it that this always happened, like the universe had a personal grudge against the two of them and refused to let anything happen.

Realizing this now, Enjolras shook his head, hazel eyes half lidded due to lack of sleep. Why did he even care? He knew he shouldn't. Being the revolution leader, he couldn't afford to be distracted by anything, any_one_. Inner thoughts interrupted by the sound of the double doors opening, Enjolras turned his head towards the entrance of the café and allowed a small smirk to grace his features, just for a moment.

_Speak of the devil, and she shall come. _The girl, Courfeyrac trailing behind her, walked into the café Musain, her gray eyes trained backwards on him as if there were nothing else in the room. _I am too late, anyway. _Elle stuck by his side entering the lobby, perhaps an inch away from the man, it seemed for protection. A pang of guilt hit Enjolras right in the stomach again, making his brows crease as he stared at the two. He ought to go apologize. He had to, it was Elle after all. Raising to his tall six foot three frame, the leader of the revolution set his shoulders back and headed over to the redheaded, his hazel eyes set on the prize.

Enjolras appeared determined, his brow set and his eyes shining with some sort of light that Elle couldn't understand as he approached. Courfeyrac shifted uneasily beside her, his brown eyes flicking from right to left, for some reason unable to focus on his leader. Standing before them in his crimson red coat, the golden haired man hesitated, then cautiously stepped towards Elle and put his arms around her slim frame, drawing the redhead into his careful embrace.

Shocked into silence, the girl could only involuntarily inhale the scent of his jacket; like cinnamon and musk, she realized with pleasant surprise. Pulling back slowly, Enjolras's hazel eyes were a mix of confused emotions, as if he really didn't know what to do with himself.

"I'm sorry." He said simply, not elaborating further on the matter, but he didn't have to. Elle sure as hell knew what he meant. She said nothing, but merely nodded once, feeling the solemnity of the moment and not wanting to break the soft silence that flooded the café. Courfeyrac kept his head firmly facing towards his feet, like he didn't want to witness what was going on right in front of him.

"One day more until the revolution." Enjolras said suddenly, though he really didn't need to. They all knew that tomorrow was the day. It had been on everybody's minds today, and you could almost smell the fear as it charged the building. Suddenly realizing how ridiculous it was that they were all melancholy, Elle lifted her face and grinned, putting one hand on Courfeyrac's shoulder and the other on Enjolras.

"I would like to go visit somebody, and you two are going to come with me whether you like it or not, okay?" Courf immediately knew who the girl was talking about. However, Enjolras was entirely confused.

"And who would that be, Elle?" He asked, an endearing smile on his face as he tilted his golden head to the side.

"Gavroche, of course." Elle answered simply, grabbing the sleeves of his vermillion coat with her fingertips and beginning to physically drag him out of the lobby. Courfeyrac followed closely behind, an easy grin present as he trailed after the eccentric young woman. Days had certainly gotten more interesting since the time that she had joined the Amis, and the man was positive they would grow even more surprising in the days to come.

The elephant was crowded. To say the least, it wasn't made for housing four people at one time, and there was a tangle of limbs on the floor of the statue as everybody tried to find a position to sit at the same time. Feeling rather exasperated, the young boy perched upon the wooden plank on the wall, shaking his shaggy blonde head at the obvious disarray in the meeting place.

"And what was exactly so important that you all had to come at once, eh?" Gavroche asked, swinging his legs back and forth in the air slowly, blue eyes trained on the three seated beneath him.

"She dragged me along," Enjolras immediately shot back, sending a playful glance to Elle, who simply rolled her eyes.

"We wanted to visit you, obviously." She said whilst Courfeyrac smiled back at her, one hand resting by the girl's back. The position looked casual and unintended, but it wasn't. Courfeyrac had assumed his role as her protector, and he took it very seriously. Gavroche laughed at this, hopping down from his seat and joining his revolution mates on the floor, crossing his legs and leaning forward, blue eyes sparkling. "You came to visit little old me? I'm flattered! Elle, you even brought Courf!" Of course she had brought him, though. Gav knew that. He knew how good of friends the two had become, and they visited him nearly every day after the meetings at the café Musain. Enjolras glanced at the pair, feeling a pang of unexpected jealousy. The younger boy noticed this but decided not to say anything, knowing that it was none of his business. "I'm real glad you're all right Elle," He said sincerely, putting one small hand on the redhead's knee, his brows furrowed at the memories of the night before. Elle was about to speak up, but the boy interrupted her with, "When I saw that man take you away...I was so scared. I ran to the only place that I knew could help: the boys."

The older girl's jaw dropped, her gray eyes wide. She hadn't known that Gavroche was the one that had seen her, watched as she was dragged away on the streets. She hadn't known that he was practically the one that had saved her. The two men seated on other side of Elle glanced at each other, expressions ranging from guilty to angry. Nobody wanted to think about last night.

"Thank you so much Gavroche," Elle said, her voice shaking slightly as she bent her fiery head down to meet the boy's cerulean eyes. "If you had not seen me taken away...I might not be alive right now. If there is anything that I can ever do to repay you...I would do it in a heartbeat. You saved my life." Gavroche looked up at Elle, feeling rather sheepish but accepting her thanks anyway.

"You're welcome Elle. I would've done it for anybody, but especially for you." Silence fell in the elephant, dust particles floating through the air, lighting up in the rays of sunshine that flickered inside from the holes in the statue. So much had happened in just a few days, so many people changed and so many feelings bloomed. Who would have thought that this would have all happened, that new friendships such as this would have been created? Feeling the dreadful mournfulness settle back thickly into the atmosphere, Elle lifted her head and shot a wide grin at the three comrades seated around her.

"Hey, no gloomy faces. Tomorrow we are going to be the most powerful people in Paris, don't forget that." Gavroche beamed at the comment, his features appearing angelic even though they were covered in dirt from the streets.

"Yeah we are!" He called out, belief in the cause evident through even the three words that he had spoken. This boy, just a child, believed in the cause almost even more than the leader itself. He was the one that spurred everyone along, the one that would fill them with courage when needed. No doubt the Amis would need him tomorrow.

"Enjolras, you've had to be preaching this cause for a long time. Don't lose your faith now," Elle said, leaning back against the white stone wall, fingering the patch of the Amis that was pinned on her worn dress.

"I will not lose my faith, trust me. Have faith in me and I will have faith in you." The leader of the revolution said, his voice sounding tired but ready, as if he just wanted the battle to come already, to get it over with. The three group members looked up at Enjolras, his exhausted face but the small smile that he wore, and they vowed to themselves that they would always trust him. Enjolras knew what he was doing. He had lived his whole life for this, just for tomorrow. He had lived with fire in his veins for far too long, burning with this passion in side of him that begged for release. Just as Elle, he knew what he was supposed to do with his life and he was confident in it. Not only was he confident in himself, his followers were also confident in him. Elle suddenly stood, her hands on her slender hips as she grinned down at the friends gathered beneath her. "Well, I do say it's about time to go." The three others got up at the words, Courfeyrac immediately taking his place at the girl's side and Enjolras standing a few feet back, his arms crossed. "You going to come, Gavroche?" Elle asked, turning to face the younger boy. He nodded excitedly, and Courfeyrac put his larger hands around his waist, hoisting the child onto his broad shoulders as the four revolutionaries exited the meeting place.

The streets of Paris were quiet, a few people drifting lazily to and fro as the day drew on. To any other person, today was normal and mundane, but to the Amis, this was the last day that they had together where they knew that they were safe. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? How knew if they would live or die, if the confessions would finally spill from the lips that had been longing to speak them?

Elle knew what she was going to do, of course. She had known this since she was a child, and she knew it now. She was going to fight her hardest for her country, for Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac deserved to be fought for.

_He also deserves to be told, _the nasty inner voice said quietly, and Elle knew that he did. If the time came where she was to tell him, she would. She swore that she would tell him before she died. Even if he did not feel the same, it would be worth it. It would always be worth it of course. It was Courfeyrac, after all.

Courfeyrac on the other hand knew that he shouldn't tell her. It would make dying all the harder, having to know that he had left so many things unresolved. He couldn't tell her, because if he did, they would never be able to go into that fight.

So many problems and so many unspoken secrets. These secrets were dangerously important, filling the minds of the people that hid them. They would torture their hosts until the precious words finally spilled out, the longer held in the more chaos that would ensue. If only they would have said them. If only they would.

_Sorry this chapter took so long...high school's a bitch. Anyway, I'm wondering if I should give longer chapters but have them take longer? Or should I keep having shorter chapters that come faster? Who knows. If you have any idea, message or review. Love you all._


	11. Chapter 10 - Fire in My Veins

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 10 - Fire in My Veins

_Hello everybody, welcome to the chapter that will send you into the beginning of the revolution, in other words, the part that is exciting. Well, here you go._

_I am wide awake_

_And I'm standing tall_

_Up against the world_

_Up against the wall_

_Between the love and hate_

_They can hardly wait_

_To watch the hero fall_

_You could give me hell_

_You could give me death_

_Right before I bend_

_I will have revenge_

_Fire through my veins_

_I will fan the flames_

_Until my dying breath_

_I will never go down_

_Any other way_

Today was the day. Men walked back and forth in the café, their hands absentmindedly landing on the hidden rifles that they would no doubt pull the trigger on but a few hours later. Elle didn't blame them, however. She felt the same terror as they did, like an adrenaline in her girl tried not to show it, after all, she was the one who had volunteered to join the Amis. She had the gun, the patch, the whole deal. So why was she so afraid?

Sitting at the table, Courfeyrac glanced up at the redhead seated across from him, her silver eyes troubled as they stared down into her drink, running her slender finger along the top rim of the glass.

"You will be okay, I promise," Courfeyrac said quietly, almost against his own will. The words had just slipped out, and he knew it was ridiculous. He couldn't promise anything. However, the response from the girl was what shocked him.

"I'm not worried about myself as much as I am of you all." She wouldn't look at him, fine brows furrowed as her hand dropped onto the table, instantly starting to tap irregular rhythms against the dark wood. She was worried, he knew.

"Hey, look at me," Courfeyrac said softly, his eyes gentle as his words finally coaxed the girl to meet his gaze. Elle lifted her fiery head, eyes like sharp steel raising up to look at the man. "You don't need to worry about us," He stated, and she looked as if she were going to say something but he continued quickly, "We've been planning for this for months. We know what we're doing, and we are going to go into this with confidence." Elle still wasn't positive, and so just for his own sake, the man added, "I'm going to look out for you, don't you worry." Courfeyrac knew that even if he denied it, he was going to make sure that Elle got out of this alive. The realization that he cared more about her life than his own was entirely humbling, and as he stared at the woman who had brought him to such heights, the man smiled.

"What are you happy about, you idiot?" Elle snapped playfully, slapping his cheek lightly, her lips turned up into a wry smirk.

"Nothing, nothing of course." Courfeyrac answered, shaking his head with a laugh, brown eyes cast down at the table.

"No, you must tell me!" The redhead demanded, leaning forward, placing her hands over his and grinning cheekily. Courfeyrac chuckled quietly and raised his head, joking,

"You just looked like such an angel today, it made me smile."

"Oh you flatter me, sir," Elle played along, twirling her crimson hair in an exaggerated flirty charade. Getting out of his chair and onto one knee, Courfeyrac bowed low and took the girl's hand, placing a teasing kiss upon the top. Elle burst out laughing, a laugh that made anyway happy just by hearing the delighted noise.

"I just thought I had to remind you one last time before I valiantly go into battle, dear maiden, that you are an exquisite archangel from the loftiest perch in Heaven's eternal kingdom." The curly haired man cried out, treasuring the generous guffaw that he extracted from the girl for that line.

"Oh sir Courfeyrac, you really are too much." She sighed, even putting on the most realistic dreamy eyes the man had ever seen. Not even realizing that they had gained the attention of most of all of the Amis in the café, Courfeyrac stood and ended his dramatic performance, grinning once before kissing Elle's hand one last time. There was a moment of sustained silence and then,

"Well if they aren't complete soul mates then I don't know who is." Grantaire broke the quiet, causing all of the other men in the lobby to laugh and nod at the statement. Elle, surprisingly, blushed. This one however, was not an act.

"It's time to go. The funeral starts in five minutes." Enjolras appeared out of nowhere, bringing the news with a blank expression. He didn't know whether to congratulate the men or apologize. Glancing over at the redheaded girl, the revolutionary leader felt cold dread work its way into his system.

_I don't want her to die, _Enjolras realized, feeling his heart clench at even the idea of never seeing the girl again. He has gotten dangerously attached in the last few days, and this thing, whatever it was, had grown to the point that he wanted to protect her. But then Enjolras moved his gaze to the man seated to the right of Elle, his arm placed purposefully on the back of her chair, hand stroking the ends of the girl's fiery hair.

_I can't think about protecting her. That's Courfeyrac's job. _He thought bitterly as he walked out of the doors of the café Musain, the rest of the Amis following behind him silently. It wasn't supposed to be a mournful event, yet why did it seem that way? Enjolras knew these men almost better than he knew himself, and it was obvious that they were scared, terrified. Feeling the inclination to speak as they walked slowly down the cobblestone streets, the leader turned around and called out to his men,

"Mes amis, ont du courage. Croyez en vous-même. Battez-vous pour votre amour! Vive la France!" The message made them all straighten their spines and raise their heads, guilty for even being afraid. It was time to change the world.

Courfeyrac kept one hand on the girl's shoulder, scared that if he let go she would disappear. He knew these fears were irrational, but they were still there and they were not leaving. Walking towards the large masses of crowds separated on two sides, the revolutionaries took their place next to the townspeople.

_Any minute now, _the curly haired man thought to himself, glancing at Elle and noticing that she seemed as still and stiff as the dead.

"Hey, you okay?" Courfeyrac asked worriedly, and the girl looked up at him, her face pale, mouth set in a firm line.

"I don't think I'm ready for this, Courf," He wanted to comfort her, god, just to hold her, but that wouldn't happen.

"I promised I'd look out for you, and don't worry, I'm going to keep that promise-" "It's not that," She interrupted, looking rather distressed as she looked down at the ground, brows furrowed. "I-it's just...there's so much I haven't said-"

"Look! The procession is coming this way!" Somebody hissed, cutting off her desperate statement and causing everybody's eyes to shift over to the left where the carriage carrying the casket of General Lamarque was moving steadily in their direction. It was time. Elle locked terrified glances with Courfeyrac, and just before they began the song, she grabbed his face.

Everything froze, his brown eyes held captive by her gaze as she shook her head, dainty hands on each of his cheeks lightly. She said nothing. Drawing his face towards hers, the girl prayed to God for forgiveness before fiercely covering Courfeyrac's lips with her own, expressing everything that she couldn't say. It was passionate, heated, tragic. Elle tangled her fingers in the man's dark curls, holding the kiss for just a second longer before pulling away, her gray eyes like a thunder storm. Courfeyrac couldn't handle this, his heart beating wildly, untamed, as his chest heaved, hair now a complete mess.

God, he loved her. He loved her. He had to tell her. Just as his mouth was about to open, the crowd started.

_"Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again! When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!"_

Courfeyrac turned to reach out for Elle but suddenly she wasn't there anymore. Whirling around franticly, the man searched from the redhead but she was nowhere to be found.

_"Will you join in our crusade? Who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see? Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!" _

The revolution had begun. Enjolras and Marius climbed atop the ebony carriage, their faces alight with the fire of rebellion, but Courfeyrac was terrified. Where was Elle?

_"Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again! When the beating of you heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!" _

Suddenly then he saw her, perched atop the carriage alongside the golden haired revolutionary leader, her face a mask of perfect calm and she swung the flag of France back and forth through the air.

_"Will you give all you can give so that our banner may advance? Some will fall and some will live will you stand up and take your chance? The blood of the martyrs will water the meadows of France!"_

The man could see it on her face. She didn't want to be a martyr, she didn't want to die. But she was going to fight in this cause anyway, she just had to do it. She just had to finish what she had started.

_"Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves again! When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when tomorrow comes!"_

_I have to tell her,_ Courfeyrac thought desperately, his eyes trained on the girl as silence fell quickly, the air tense, thick. After one charged moment, the war cry of the French military split through the quiet, and the sound of a gunshot made Courfeyrac's head whirl to the side, where a middle aged woman now lay on the ground choking out and straining for oxygen, dirty hands clutching towards her apron, now stained crimson. "You just shot an innocent woman! Murderer!" One of the Amis cried out as the crowds flocked around the injured, trying to help her up as she convulsed violently, eyes wide and terrified.

He had to get to Elle. Lunging away from the townspeople, Courfeyrac tried to run towards the carriage but collided with an older man, falling towards the cobblestone. Another bullet whizzed past an inch away from his ear, and Courfeyrac felt his heart jump in his chest. The man who had crashed into the revolutionary reached down and grabbed the neck of the younger man's crimson coat, yanking him back up onto his feet quickly. Courfeyrac glanced up at the old man, his startling blue eyes and scruffy salt and pepper beard. He only had time to yell out, 'thank you m'sieur' before whirling back around and watching Elle hop down from the carriage, her fiery hair falling about her face in a tangle of messy waves. He swore that he would protect her, he couldn't lose her now.

"Elle!" The man cried out breathlessly, but she seemed not to hear him, disappearing in front of Enjolras as he shuffled her out of the way of the violence.

_I'm not the only one that wants to keep her alive, _Courfeyrac realized after a second's pause at the sight, but he had more to do than just to protect her. Courfeyrac had to tell her that he loved her, just in case anything happened. Elle deserved to know, and after all, he still had to return that kiss. _Maybe more than once, _the man thought to himself.


	12. Chapter 11 - Times Goes By Too Fast

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 11 - The Time Goes By Too Fast

Enjolras was going to pretend that he hadn't seen it. Even if he lied to the others, to Elle, he couldn't lie to himself. He knew that he shouldn't be worried about it, that it shouldn't bother him at all. But it did. God, it bothered him. He knew he shouldn't care about Elle, that he shouldn't even be thinking about it. But he did. God, he did. Enjolras cared about the girl more than he should, and it was dangerous. It was dangerous because this jealousy was eating him up inside, and when he had seen that kiss...it had planted this seed in his stomach that hurt more than any physical wound ever could. Now, gripping Elle's arm gently but just firm enough to pull her along, the man pulled her through the streets leading to the café, furniture raining down from lofty windows above. The barricades were being built one chair, couch, picture at a time. "Wait, where's Courfeyrac?" Elle cried out, and Enjolras felt another pang at the words. Couldn't she think of anybody else, just for a moment?

"You'll find him eventually. I have to get you out of the...the danger."

"Enjolras, I'm fine!"

"Don't argue, and don't ask."

"But Courfeyrac-"

"I don't care." The redhead looked at him, her silver eyes narrowed into thin, sharp slits.

"You should care. He's like your brother, and I would like very much to find him. So you'll turn around right now so I can go and locate him myself-"

"Elle!" _Speak of the devil, _She whipped her head around, just catching a glimpse of the curly haired revolutionary as he rushed towards her, looking more determined than Elle had ever seen him. Enjolras tightened his grip on her arm to the point where it started to hurt.

"What are you doing, Enj? I have to go talk to Courfeyrac!" The girl asked quietly, confused by the man's actions. He turned to look at her, blue eyes looking desperate and sad, all at once.

"I just...please don't-" Elle shook her head, still mystified by Enjolras's argument. She turned around just in time to feel Courfeyrac wrap his arms around her small body in a tight embrace.

"I was so scared...I couldn't find you, El." The girl was silent. What could she say?

"Thanks, but I'm fine. You know I can handle myself," Elle persisted, her gray eyes drawn towards the cobblestone. She couldn't even look at Courfeyrac or the fervent need to kiss him again came over her.

"Of course you can," The man replied as he pulled back, a small smirk on his handsome face. "Otherwise you wouldn't have joined the Amis in the first place. Anyways, the barricades are about built. Everyone's gathering together over towards the south area of Paris, by the café. That's where our main barricade is." Elle nodded at the statement, feeling the adrenaline rush back into her veins. They had officially started the Revolution. "Come on," Courfeyrac shouted, his brown eyes sparkling as he grabbed the redhead's dainty hand, dragging her alongside the other men, Grantaire on the left and Marius on the right. Elle had never really talked to Marius, though she had seen him from a distance. He seemed to be the more quiet one, and he had never talked much about their cause. If anything, he seemed to be on the fence about the Revolution.

"Hey missy, you ready for this?" Grantaire yelled to the girl, his black hair in an incredible disarray and his cheeks flushed, most likely because he was already halfway drunk. Elle adored him anyway.

"I am ready! You?" She answered, and the dark haired revolutionary stumbled slightly over to the girl, one arm lazily draped over her shoulders. Courfeyrac watched the two, amused by their amiable behavior.

"You bet I am," Grantaire chuckled, studying the redhead next to him.

"You know El, I really, really don't want you to die." He finished, making Courfeyrac's head jerk in their direction. Elle wasn't surprised. She had been expecting this conversation for a long time.

"I don't want you to die either, Grantaire. Or you, Courf." The two men, on either side of the redhead, looked down at her. She wouldn't look up at them, as if she were afraid to. Finally, the girl choked out, "I feel like...if I think about it too much, I'm going to be too scared to go into this. But I can't be scared, so I can't think about it." Courfeyrac said nothing, but reached out and gripped her smaller hand in his. Grantaire glanced at the two, shaking his head. Nobody had been expecting this-this love that even the drunkard could see.

"I'm going to go and talk to Enjolras, catch up with you later," Grantaire announced, hitting Courfeyrac once on the shoulder before winking at Elle and running off into the crowd. There was silence for a moment, and then the curly haired man looked down at his girl.

"Stay by me during all of this, you promise?" He asked, brown eyes dark and serious. Elle was surprised for a moment, contemplating his words, but then she readily responded,

"Of course. Yes." Unexpectedly, the man's hands landed on each side of her face, thumbs brushing each cheek softly. Courfeyrac leaned in and placed his lips on the girl's forehead gently.

"I-I..." He started, and the world froze. He never finished. The sound of gunfire split the air, making both of the revolutionaries jump backwards.

_"To the barricades!" _Somebody screamed, and Elle's silver eyes widened in terror. Courfeyrac gripped her arm, pulling the girl towards him as they both started running beside the rest of the Amis, towards the barricade. The government was catching up with them, bullets flying in every direction.

"Keep running, we're almost there!" Courfeyrac shouted, his hand tightly clasping hers as they ran for their lives. The streets of Paris narrowed out until the café drew into sight. Elle almost stopped in shock. Hundreds of pieces of furniture were all stacked up, creating a huge blockade between the café Musain and the street in front of it. The sight of the small blonde boy at the top, waving his hand, was what made the two keep going, ducking underneath the bottom of the barricade to finally enter. Enjolras was the first person on the other side, gripping Elle's tattered dress and dragging her into protection, his hazel eyes determined. Courfeyrac came in next, breathing hard as his gaze landed on the revolution leader clutching the girl to his chest.

"You're safe," The man was chanting quietly, "You're safe." Courfeyrac didn't know what to say. The entire realization came crashing over him, all at once. He wasn't the only one that loved Elle. And out of all people, Enjolras was the one that had fallen for her too. It was so strange, more strange than frustrating.

_I didn't think Enjolras could ever fall for anybody, _Courfeyrac thought to himself silently as the Amis gathered all around. Silence fell, and the fear set in.

The government was coming, Elle knew it. They couldn't be that far away by now, approaching fast. As Enjolras let go, the girl pulled back and stroked the gun strapped to her side unconsciously.

"They are coming," The man Marius shouted, perched upon the top layer of the barricade. Elle was almost surprised to hear his voice raised, the soft spoken newcomer.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed collar the redhead's dress and yanked her over to the sidelines, in front of the front door of the café. Elle had never seen this girl before. She was grubby, with a tattered shirt and trousers, and a newsboy cap to conceal her long hair. If the new face would have just cleaned up a bit, she supposed, the girl could have been beautiful.

"Who are you?" Elle questioned, more curious than afraid. If the stranger was on this side of the barricade, she had to be a part of the Amis.

"My name is Eponine, though that isn't a matter of importance." The girl spoke, her brown eyes narrowed and her voice hushed. "Listen," She started again, two hands on Elle's shoulders. "There is a man that I love here, Marius. You know him," The redhead nodded numbly. "He doesn't know that I am here, but I am here to protect him. I have seen you around here before. You are the talk of the Amis. I have also seen the way that you look at Courfeyrac. I know things. You love him." Elle couldn't say anything, but rather stare at the dirty woman. The statement was so unexpected, and so accurate.

Eponine's eyes flashed in recognition, and her grip on the girl's shoulders tightened further. "You cannot let him die. If you love him, do as I am today, and protect him. He should not have to protect you. We are both strong. We can survive today, if we try. Promise me this." She finished passionately, a curl of dark hair escaping from her brown cap.

"I promise." Elle answered quietly, and Eponine relaxed, staring back at the other girl. "I didn't know that there were any other girls in the Amis. Why didn't you approach me before?" The redhead asked curiously, feeling as if she had suddenly found a new friend. Women were supposed to support each other in these times, after all. And they were two very special women. Eponine looked down, as if she couldn't look at Elle in the eye.

"Technically I'm not a member of the Amis, and I only go to the boys if they need information. So I guess you could say I'm not around that much anyhow."

"But you still should have talked to me. I could have needed a girl friend. Too much of the boys can be overwhelming." Elle stated with a smile, her gray eyes sparkling. The beautiful gamin snorted at this-it was all too true.

"Yes, they are very overwhelming. Grantaire especially!" The two girls laughed together in the shadow of the café Musain.

"Ah yes, he and I got drunk together once. It was horrible and wonderful at the same time." Elle choked out, and Eponine threw back her head with a generous guffaw. "The only thing I remember is telling Enjolras that he looked like Apollo...don't exactly remember what he said to that one."

"You did not!"

"Yes, I did! Though I can't recall the half of what happened."

"Oh, I can just imagine the look on his face!"

"Courfeyrac might remember. Perhaps I should ask him someday."

"Someday." The two trailed off, feeling the melancholy foreboding air settle back into their bones. It was ridiculous, after all. They couldn't guarantee whether they were going to get out of this or not. They shouldn't make any promises. "Um, well, I should get going. None of the boys can see me," Eponine finally said in parting, her brown eyes downcast once again.

"If we get out of this alive, Eponine, I do think we could be the best of friends." Elle stated amiably, patting the other girl once on the shoulder before stepping away. "Goodbye, Elle! Don't forget what you promised!" The gamin walked away, brown eyes flashing once at the redhead before disappearing completely, leaving Elle standing in the shadow of the building with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Courfeyrac and Enjolras were seated against the barricade, both staring out in opposite directions with the tense, awkward silence settled around them. Feeling that this was ridiculous, Courfeyrac finally burst out,

"You love Elle. But it's okay. I do too." Enjolras startled, his hazel eyes widened as they flashed to his friend.

"No, I don't-"

"Don't try to deny it. I did once, and that didn't work at all. Trust me." Courfeyrac interrupted, gaze landing on the golden haired revolutionary sheepishly. "You don't need to explain. She is a bewitching creature, Elle." After a moment of silence, Enjolras conceded,

"She is, isn't she? God, that hair."

"The hair! She's like a fiery fallen angel sent down with the sole purpose of torturing us into submission." The two chuckled, leaning against the furniture as they contemplated the girl in question.

"You'll watch out for her, I know you will." Enjolras stated quietly, his hazel eyes trained on the cobblestone. "Just don't let her die. Whatever happens."

"I won't." The words were so heavy, and Enjolras felt as if he had been defeated. He had tried so hard to resist her, to block her from his mind. But she had only struck back with the force of a hurricane, completely filling his mind to the point where he could think of nothing else. Elle was...there was no way to describe it. And both of the men understood that, in their own way. Each had their own promises, knowing that they couldn't let her die. Each had their own love, a love that they held higher than their own survival. Shaking his golden head slowly, Enjolras sighed. She had won.

_So...yeah. The next chapter is going to be super emotional so brace yourselves. :) Ah, Eponine and Elle bonding over the boys. I love it. I just really like Eponine._


	13. Chapter 12 - Rain

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 12 - Rain

The ominous sound of soldier's footsteps echoed through the humid air as they treaded across the cobblestone streets, rifles drawn and ready. They had come to kill-no need to sugarcoat, it was the truth. Who would have thought that the revolution would rise again, in the form of the Amis? The commander dressed in blue gave the signal to his troops, sending them stalking forward slowly, eyes trained on the approaching barricade.

"Elle, get back!" Courfeyrac hissed, gripping the redhead's dress and jerking her backwards into a cluster of men who immediately formed a protective wall. "I just wanted to see them," She said quietly, causing the curly haired revolutionary to shake his head and lightly cradle her closer to his body. She loved the danger, he was sure of it. "Just stay back, okay? I can't have you getting hurt, okay?" Courfeyrac replied softly in her ear, knowing that they were in the presence of the other Amis. Elle looked up at the man and his brown eyes-they were her weakness, after all. "They are on the other side. I saw them. They are here." The man's complexion paled, and the rest of the revolution turned to face the barricade, faces raised upward. A second, then ten, then thirty. The silence was heavy, and then the they heard the footsteps-the unmistakeable sound of soldiers stepping forward, and then halting. They were here. A pause, and then, _"Who's there?" _A stranger cried out, voice echoing to the Amis, their rifles drawn, fingers on the triggers. Enjolras lunged forward, looking like glorious revolution himself. He hesitated, hazel eyes brightening as he called out, _"The French revolution!" _These words ignited the fire in Elle's blood, and as the first bullets screamed forward, she grabbed her rifle and joined the men on top of the barricade, Courfeyrac beside her as their gazes connected one last time before the storm.

People dropped like rocks, right and left they fell. It wasn't as if she hadn't been expecting this-but the harsh reality of it actually happening had a numbing effect on Elle's mind. People were dying. People that she knew. Of course, she had shot people herself, seen the light go out in their eyes as they fell backwards against their team mates dressed in blue. The redhead knew shouldn't be so bothered about it. She had prepared her whole life for this moment, this one violent and bloody moment that seemed to pass too quick for her mind to process.

This was the picture of hatred. Two groups with only one goal; to kill one another. The French soldiers pressed harder, even starting to climb up the barricade, hands grasping on whatever wooden piece of furniture that they could find.

Courfeyrac stayed inches away from Elle at all times, his eyes flicking back and forth, back and forth between the enemy and the girl. Even in this moment when all concentration was needed, he sought to protect her. Elle slowly noticed at the corner of her eye a certain brown haired revolutionary ascending on their side of the barricade, Marius. She had never talked to him before, yet the worry rose up and thickened in her throat, feeling as if something wasn't right. What was he doing?

"Courfeyrac, Marius!" The redhead hissed to her companion on the left, and his head whipped around, just catching sight of his friend, torch in hand. The crazed man had stumbled to the top of the barricade, as if he didn't care that at the same time, a dozen rifles had been aimed at his chest.

"Marius, get down!" Enjolras cried out, fear in the brave leader's eyes. What was Marius doing, to cause even Apollo to feel terror? Then it dawned on Elle. Beneath the top layer of furniture lay a box, and as she peered closer, she could just make out the words, 'careful, explosive'. The girl felt her heart stop.

"Marius, Marius get down, please!" Combeferre shouted, attempting to reach the younger man, hand suspended in air just inches from his red velvet coat. But of course, Marius ignored the sound of the Amis. Instead, he glared at the soldiers on the other side, raised the torch so that they could clearly see it, and yelled slowly,

"Stop! Stop or I blow it all up!" There was an immediate cease in movement. The soldiers froze, eyes trained upon the raving revolutionary.

"Marius, get down! You'll take yourself with it!" The French army seemed to realize the very gravity of the situation, as they started to yell at each other. The commander immediately gave the order for retreat, and the sea of blue carefully disappeared. Enjolras tried to rationalize with his friend, and having climbed up to stand alongside the young man, placed a hand upon his shoulder lightly and another on the torch.

"Take...myself with it..." Marius echoed quietly, his blue eyes vacant as he stared out upon the destruction of the revolution. The torch was removed, held by Enjolras as he deposited it away from the danger of the explosives. As they stumbled away from the barricade, the golden haired leader whipped around and placed both of his hands firmly on each side of Marius's head.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" He hissed, hazel eyes furious, "You could have killed us all!" The man in question didn't seem to think anything of it as he treaded away silently, seemingly still in his daze. Elle watched watched, expression sober and drawn. As Marius walked away, her eyes followed him, until the sight of something made her stop.

(A/N: Listen to Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright during this part)

There was a person huddled against the back corner of the barricade, hands clutched over their stomach tightly. The redhead raised her eyes further, and gasped. "No...no no no no!" Lunging forward, the girl ran across the damp cobblestone, falling at the feet of the wounded Eponine. She couldn't handle this. She had lost enough, lost her whole family. This girl had just become her friend...and she was so brave. Elle placed both hands on the dirty brunette's pale face. "Eponine, you're going to be okay, I swear-" Voice cracking halfway through, the revolutionary kneeled, sobs already wrenching through her body. Eponine's chocolate brown eyes opened, and landing on the girl bent at her feet, placed a weak hand on her shoulder. "It's...okay...Elle. Knew this...was gonna happen anyway."

"Elle?" Came the voice that she knew all too well, but she knew what he was going to say and she didn't want to listen.

"Eponine, don't die on me please, you're too young, we were going to be friends," The street gamin chuckled, still beautiful even in death. Two arms wrapped around Elle's waist, attempting to draw her away. "No, Courfeyrac! I want to talk to her-" "Elle, you have to get back please. Marius is going to talk-" The man buried his face into her shoulder, embracing her tightly from behind.

"It's okay, just come with me. You're going to be okay." With that, Courfeyrac lifted the girl as she reached out towards the wounded girl, lifted her from the ground and carried her in his arms, away from Eponine.

"No, no Courf please I wanted to," Elle broke down, clutching at his back with her hands, gripping his red coat and fisting it in her fingers. Courfeyrac held her close, feeling the tremor of her sobs as she shook against him. "-talk to her, I just wanted to talk, Courf! I just wanted to talk!" The once fiery girl cried out weakly, her voice breaking once again.

"Shhh, it's okay," The guardian comforted, whispering in her ear quietly, "Marius is talking to her, okay? She loved him, so it's going to be okay. It's going to be okay. It's going to be okay." She was left echoing those words back brokenly, tears staining her face as she was carried like a child back away from the barricade, to where the rest of the Amis were waiting. She didn't want to face them. Burying her frame in Courfeyrac's body, Elle hid. She didn't want them to see her tearstained face, to see her so weak. They had to see her as a warrior, as the flame that she was. They had to have faith in her. A pause, and then the soft muttered words,

"Is she okay?" Enjolras.

"Yes. Yes, I can take care of it."

"...Yes, um...that would...okay."

"I can take care of it."

"Got it. I just wanted to talk-"

"I can take care of it."

"...Yes." Then they were walking again, and Elle couldn't help but feel the tensity of Courfeyrac's body, the stiffness in his muscles. She raised her fiery head, not ashamed of her tears in front of this man, and kissed him gently on the cheek. The curly haired revolutionary looked down at the girl in his arms and shook his head slowly. "What the hell did I do to deserve you?" He asked, a rhetoric question, but Elle wanted to answer it. She placed both hands on either side of his face, fingering a lock of his dark hair, before saying in complete seriousness,

"Everything. Everything." Gray and brown gazes connected, the two people standing in the middle of the alleyway, one being held as if her life depended on it, and the other acting as guardian angel. It was such a picture, such a different scene than that of the battle. There was such love here, such love that could never be truly spoken or encompassed by words. Elle prayed that it wouldn't end. Would God hear her?

Enjolras paced back and forth, his harsh hazel eyes trained on the street underneath his boots, feeling the helplessness that came with loving something unattainable.

"You okay, Enjolras?" The voice came, and the leader didn't even have to turn his head to know who it was.

"Yes, Grantaire. I am fine."

"It's about Elle, isn't it. I saw what happened back there." The golden haired man's steps halted immediately at the name of the redhead, feeling worry and anger seep back into his veins.

"I just wanted to talk to her." He said quietly, sinking down upon the steps of the café, Grantaire watching the man in his internal battle.

"And he didn't let you. I saw. Once again, are you okay?" The black haired friend crouched down in front of his commander, putting one hand on his broad shoulder.

"No," Came the simply reply. Enjolras couldn't look up at his comrade. He didn't want the man to see his vulnerability. Suddenly the dam broke, and the words came rushing out in a passionate and broken soliloquy. "I love her so much...god. This wasn't supposed to happen. And everywhere I look, there they are, and I just _want to be there. _I don't want to see him standing there with her, holding her like that, when I could be holding her instead. It isn't fair. It doesn't feel right." Grantaire looked at Enjolras, in all of his pain, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry Enjolras. I don't know what to say." The golden haired man laughed sardonically, fisting his hands and punching the ground with one. Silence, and then,

"I just can't handle it Grantaire. I can't go much longer watching them together. I'm supposed to be the strong man, the leader, but it just hurts too damn much." The two sat together on the steps of the Musain, one with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Enjolras thought his friend wasn't going to say a word, but finally he said quietly,

"Just keep loving her. Love is always worth it, even if she doesn't love you back. It is always worth it. No matter what. Because when everybody else bails on you, and leaves you in the dust, there will always be that one person. And that one person is always worth it." Enjolras knew that. He would never leave her, even if she was going to leave him. Elle was worth it. Two revolutionaries rested in the gentle quiet, the silence of companionship as it began to rain.

_Eponine's death always makes me emotional because she's one of my favorite characters. Gotta feel kinda bad for Enjolras, though. I mean, I was the one that wrote it and I still feel bad for him. Being friendzoned sucks._


	14. Chapter 13 - Javert and Elle

Disclaimer: I do not and will not ever own the rights to Les Misérables.

Chapter 13 - Javert and Elle

Nobody had noticed him walk in. He had been there, though they had no idea when he had joined. Nobody doubted him. He had volunteered to spy for them, and they had immediately accepted. Nobody knew his name. Elle had not seen him, but soon she would. This man's name was Javert, and he was a soldier in blue.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Are you positive?"

"Absolutely positive, Courf. I want to see my boys."

"Good idea. Grantaire's probably frantic." The two walked out of the alleyway, Courfeyrac's hand resting lightly on Elle's lower back, a feather touch. As they had predicted, the dark haired revolutionary _was _frantic, even more so than that. Grantaire pounced on Elle the moment that the pair stepped into the shadow of the café Musain, his black curls tickling her cheek and his arms wrapped tight around her body, robbing the poor girl of oxygen.

"You didn't die!" the man cried out, almost like a child, blue eyes wide open staring at Elle as if she were the greatest thing in the world. With a light chuckle, the redhead hugged her friend back quickly and then pulled back, watching the grin illuminate his face once again.

"No, 'Taire. I didn't. And I see you didn't either."

"No, I didn't! Isn't that great?"

"Yes Grantaire. It's wonderful." The happy reunion was interrupted by a shout.

"I come as a volunteer!" Elle froze and jerked to the left. She knew that voice. God, she knew that voice. Who...who was it? She swore she had heard it before. Silver eyes trained on the barricade, her heart stopped as the stranger stepped into the view of the Amis. A violent scream ripped out of the girl's throat, and her hands lashed out. She had to kill him. She had to kill him before he hurt her family, before he hurt Courfeyrac. The man took a step back, his dark blue eyes trained on the redhead, and the men of the revolution immediately held her back, though they were confused. _"Leave now! Leave now or I swear I will kill you! Stay out of my life, stay out stay out stay out!" _Elle screeched, chest heaving as she tried to wrench out of the gip of her friends. Courfeyrac stepped in front of the traumatized girl's view and placed both of his hands on either side of her face, murmuring quiet words in her ear. Elle jerked away from the curly haired revolutionary, silver eyes like daggers pointed at the man, Javert. _"You killed my family!" _The girl wailed, feeling the initial shock wear off and instead the fury blinding her in complete rage. Javert's eyes widened as he stared at the redhead, confusion giving way to recognition.

"Red...I mean...you were the little girl." Elle hesitated, Courfeyrac drawing her closer to him, as if he were afraid that she was going to actually kill the man. Ignoring the small amount of curiosity as to why Javert was even here, the redhead remembered. He was a member of the French Army, which meant he was a traitor. Stepping back and placing her arms out on either side, holding back the confused members of the Amis, the girl's silver eyes narrowed and she hissed,

_"Traitor, traitor, get him away." _ Enjolras jumped forward, seizing the man's scrappy jacket in his first and bringing him to the ground, dragging Javert away from the barricade and into the shadow of the Musain to face his judgement.

"You work for the government?" The golden haired leader shouted in his ear, looking rather like the fierce protector that he was, not unlike a lion. The man was tied up to the flagpole above the café, imprisoned beneath the French Flag itself. The irony of this nearly made Elle laugh, but she still hadn't gotten over the fact that her family's killer sat a few feet away, as helpless as a child. The old Elle would have immediately grabbed the gun out of her boot and shot him then and there, but something told her that she had changed. She had changed into something different...a different person, in a way. The new Elle didn't know what to do. She was confused, standing there beside the only man who seemed to understand her.

Courfeyrac guided the shell shocked girl away from Javert and back to the barricade, where the sat against the piled furniture.

"Don't worry about him," The curly haired revolutionary said at last, "Some guy volunteered to take care of him."

"Take care of him? As in-"

"Yes. He will be dead by the half hour. You don't need to think about him anymore. Your family is avenged." This should have comforted Elle, but she was left feeling only empty. She had paid the French Government back, and this had been her life goal, but then why doesn't she feel happy? Looking down at the damp ground, the redhead traced a finger along the stone.

"I don't feel any different." Courfeyrac turned to look at Elle, grabbing her hand and entwining his fingers with hers.

"It's okay. I wouldn't know anything about revenge, but I think you're going to do okay from now on." The girl could only hope so. She felt so useless now...as if she wasn't ever going to do anything with her life anymore.

"Is the French Army coming tonight? Did the spy hear?" Elle asked, suddenly remembering that they had the rest of the revolution to carry out.

"They're coming tomorrow. I guess they still think Marius is tempted to blow us all up."

"What was that, anyway? Is he okay?" The tired man sighed, seemingly not knowing how to answer the question. Looking back up at his other half, he finally replied,

"I think he was just really shook up. Marius hasn't seen that much violence in his life. He joined the revolution later than most of us, and he's lived a rich life since he was born. It was a culture shock for him to see the army firing in his direction for once." Elle nodded, brushing a lock of fiery red hair out of her gray eyes, gently tapping her foot with Courfeyrac's and feeling the bond of friendship as they sat in the drizzle. "Tomorrow's the day." The curly haired man announced after a moment of silence. They both knew that of course. Another chance at death, and another chance at life. None of the Amis knew what was going to happen or whether or not they were going to get out of this. However, if they did happen to die, they would die together, and that would be okay. Elle knew that if she was going to die with anybody, she would want it to be with these men. They had grown so close together in the past few days, and now she knew that no matter what happened, nothing could draw them apart.

As the night drew long, the bottles came out. The alcohol helped numb the pain, the fear. They didn't have to think about what came tomorrow if their brains were muddled, drunken off of the beer. Elle stayed dry that night, remembering her complete distaste for alcohol because of the addiction that her mother had. That addiction had ruined her family, torn them apart one drink at a time.

_And now she and my father have been avenged, _the girl reminded herself silently, leaning back against the brick wall of the café, not even noticing the approaching footsteps.

"You okay?" Came the voice, and the leader of the revolution made himself comfortable next to the love of his life. Her dull gray eyes turned to face him, observing the creases in his brow and the dirt that covered his skin. The man was still beautiful even underneath all of the grime, though Elle didn't think anything of it.

"Yes," She finally replied quietly, expecting him to further interrogate her about the matter, but surprisingly, Enjolras said nothing. "You?" She added after further thought, and the man merely gave a slight sound of affirmation in response. For some reason, the redhead found herself worried for her friend. Placing on hand on his, she leaned over so that the two were seated closer, and then asked, "Do you want to hear a story?" Enjolras nodded, focusing his hazel eyes on Elle. The girl didn't hesitate, but rather jumped right into the anecdote.

"When I was young, my father was a very important man in the revolution. Mother would have helped, but...well, that's another story. He had this red hair, like mine and it just...it shone in the sun like he was fire. One day he told me, 'Elbell, we're going to go somewhere.' 'Where?' I asked, of course, I was a very curious child. He didn't say anything but gave me his signature smirk and took my hand, leading me into the alleyways. It was sunny that day, and birds were flying everywhere, though not as if they were escaping, but rather loitering around with their families. It made sense to me then." Enjolras stared at Elle, his eyes soft. Their hands stayed entwined on the ground, his thumb lightly tracing over her skin, though she did not notice. The girl continued. "My dad took me to the tallest building in Paris, which at that time was the clock tower...downtown, you know the one?"

"Yes."

"Well he brought me to the top, to the very very top, and there was this open window, with no fence holding you back from just falling. It made me so breathless, and I was scared, but dad took my hand and we stood on the edge there, so close to gravity taking us to the bottom. He put one hand on the side of my head, turning my gaze towards the birds once again. 'Look at them,' he said, with this little smile on his face." Elle looked down at their hands, the same smile on her face today. It was beautiful. "And then he said, 'Look Elle. Look at the birds and how they sing for you.'" The golden haired revolutionary looked up, and their eyes connected. For some reason, Enjolras found oxygen lacking in this moment. "'You can be like them,' he said," She continued, raising her gray eyes to the tops of the buildings, looking as if her mind were in a completely different world. "'You can fly if you want to, or you can stay on the ground. What do you want to do?' and I looked up at him, my dad, who was my hero of course, and I said with absolute certainty, 'I want to fly, daddy.' And that is the moment when I knew I wanted to do something more with my life, something important." The redhead paused, took a breath, and then finished, "They were killed that night." They sat in silence, both not really caring that the other wasn't talking. It was comfortable, just the two of them.

Courfeyrac watched from a distance, Gavroche on his shoulders, and though he should feel jealous, tonight he did not. He knew that Elle needed to talk to people, and whether or not that be him, he had to be okay with it, because right now was peaceful. These were the last few moments before the next storm, and they all had to cherish this quiet, this time where they were together with their friends. Who knew what the morning would bring, who would die and who would live, who knew? Elle certainly didn't. But she remembered the promise that she had made with Eponine, the promise to protect the ones that they loved.

Elle knew that she wouldn't let Courfeyrac die, no matter what happened and no matter who tried to harm them. She wouldn't let the government destroy this brick solid relationship that they had created, and she wouldn't let them take away the love. Courfeyrac would be safe, she swore it.

_I have to admit that she chapter was probably half of a filler. Though the beginning did give you all some insight on who killed Elle's parents. I'm still not sure whether I'm going to actually made him die or not. We'll have to see about that. :) _


End file.
